


Dirty, Sexy Love

by coffeeandcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Angst, BDSM, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Dean, Breathplay, Choking, Collars, Dom Castiel, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Handcuffs, M/M, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Play, Restraints, Rimming, Sex Toys, Spanking, Sub Dean, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-02-07 07:24:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12836181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeandcas/pseuds/coffeeandcas
Summary: Their relationship is far from conventional, and always has been. It had started, months ago, with Castiel picking Dean up in a club full of beautiful young things dressed in tight clothing and older men on the prowl for a night of fun. So imagine his surprise when, like some rom-com cliche, Dean had turned up in his office less than a week later as his new intern.A love story. Plus bondage. Each chapter can be read as a standalone, with a loose plot tying them all together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not my usual, but I realised I was sadly lacking in sexy Dean/Cas fun, so thought I'd remedy that as a little interlude to all the angst I'm currently writing. Expect 3-5 chapters. Enjoy!

Their relationship is far from conventional and always has been. It had started, months ago, with Castiel picking Dean up in a club full of beautiful young things dressed in tight clothing and older men on the prowl for a night of fun. They had fucked back at Castiel’s penthouse apartment, with Dean blindfolded and tied to the bed, and the next morning had been quiet and awkward until Dean, the beautiful boy with candy-apple green eyes and lashes to die for, had excused himself and Castiel had assumed they'd never cross paths again. 

So imagine his surprise when, like some rom-com cliche, Dean had turned up in his office less than a week later as his new intern. Had they been in some cheesy romantic comedy then Dean may well have fallen into Castiel’s arms and their love story would have been history - but it was a far cry from that. Dean had gone straight to Human Resources to request a transfer, and was told in no uncertain terms to put up, shut up, or find another placement. And given that The Amara Group is widely known as the best accountancy firm in the state, Dean had little option but to keep his mouth shut and pretend he'd never seen Castiel before in his life. Which is exactly what he did, for weeks. 

Wanting to seem like the confident alpha male in his new role, and in denial about his emotional vulnerability and the side of his sexuality Castiel had been privy to, Dean all but blanked his new boss unless specifically spoken to. He was sharp in his retorts, sarcastic and witty, and soon the rest of the staff were wondering how on earth he got away with it, for in the past Castiel had never stood for insubordination. Whispers started, and Dean crushed them all whenever he could. But eventually Castiel had enough of one-word answers and deliberate avoidance, and called Dean to his office in the last five minutes of the day. 

He had come in, swaggering a little on bowed legs that Castiel remembered having wrapped around his waist as they'd fucked against his bedroom wall, but his eyes had betrayed his anxiety. He hadn't sat, had stood with his arms folded and his jaw set, but the little twitches of his lips and the speed of his breath gave him away. He was nervous and, if Castiel wasn't truly mistaken, somewhat excited for whatever he thought might happen. But his words belied whatever positive reaction Castiel was hoping for. 

“Look, this isn't working. We both know it. You want me gone, right? That's why you called me here?” Dean’s tone was fiery, worked up, and it took Castiel by surprise. “Well, sorry pal, but I'm here to stay. I'm damn good at this job and you ain't forcing me to go. I'll be more pleasant to you, I guess, I can do that. I don't want one stupid night to ruin what could be a great career move for me. But you can't fire me.” He ran out of steam, and his eyes widened a fraction. “Don't fire me.”

“I have no intent on that,” Castiel said, stung. They remained silent for a moment, watching each other. “You thought that night was stupid?”

“No! I mean, yeah, course. You didn't?”

“No, Dean,” Castiel said quietly, watching the younger man for any sign of reaction. “I really enjoyed it. I was pleased to see you again.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. Won't be happening again.” The jaw-clench again. But if Dean was so set on his words, why was his breathing laboured? Why were his cheeks red? And, as Castiel’s gaze dropped lower, why was his body so visibly responding to what he could only assume were the memories of their night together? Interesting… “If that's all, then I'm heading out. See ya, Cas.”

“Dean,” Cas tried but the younger man was already turning away, already had his hand on the doorknob. In a last-ditch attempt, he lowered his voice an octave - an echo of the dominance he had shown during their night together - and had said simply, firmly, “Dean.”

The younger man had frozen, a shudder had quaked his shoulders, and he inclined his head so they could almost look at each other. 

“Dammit. Don't do that to me, Cas. I… I can't.”

“I just want to talk,” Castiel had assured him, but when Dean turned those beautiful eyes to him and slowly licked his bottom lip in a display of his nerves, Castiel was lost. The evening had ended with them kissing, Dean straddling Cas’ lap and allowing his mouth to be ravaged, then they had continued back at Castiel’s penthouse and hadn't fallen asleep until the early hours. Dean had awoken the next day with aching thighs, sore wrists, and a sleepy smile on his lips that had lasted all day. 

And so it had gone on. They found a balance: consummate professionals at the office, and passionate fuck-buddies after hours. Dean was eager and excitable, and took to the role of Castiel’s sub with ease. He was well-behaved, obedient, but enjoyed pushing his limits. It worked, the thing they had going on. Dean was an experienced sub, had got into the scene when he was nineteen and now, five years later, was as close to perfection as Castiel can ever imagine someone being. They kept things quiet between them although the rumours of them being involved circulated thick and fast. 

It was one freezing day in January, just after Dean’s birthday, that their relationship changed forever. Dean got sick.  _Really_  sick, and Castiel found himself going out of his mind with worry. Dean had been working extra hours at a garage and salvage yard belonging to his uncle, and had caught a cold. He'd pushed on relentlessly, needing the cash, and had collapsed in the yard one evening after struggling for breath in the icy air, only being found an hour later by his frantic brother. Pneumonia had landed him in hospital, and sudden realisations of ‘more than friends’ had landed Castiel at his side. 

“I'm OK, Cas,” Dean had rasped before descending into a coughing fit, and Castiel had held his hand and helped him breathe into an oxygen mask until he had fallen into a restless sleep against Cas’ shoulder. Later that day, when Dean’s hospital room was quiet and dim and when they were alone together, Castiel told Dean he loved him for the first time. 

“I know, Cas,” Dean had smiled through white lips, then had said it back. They'd had a moment or two to kiss before Castiel was evicted by a nurse, and Dean recovered quicker than any of them expected. 

Two weeks later, Dean and Castiel moved in together and their relationship became common knowledge - Dean’s family were pleased for him and supportive, particularly his younger brother Sam who had seen Castiel’s frantic worry at the hospital and knew what they had was genuine. Castiel’s family were less enthused. 

“Always knew you'd end up with a toyboy, Cassie,” His youngest brother Gabriel had crowed over dinner one Monday evening. “Sure he isn't a bit young for you?”

Dean is young, it's true, in comparison to Cas. There are almost twelve years between them. But they only ever notice the age gap when someone else brings it up - which their friends and family rarely do these days, unless it's to make a joke at Cas’ expense. And lately, those have been few and far between. Everyone knows Dean and Cas, and knows them for what the are. But what goes on behind their closed bedroom door, on the other hand, is theirs alone. 

•••

“Dean?” 

Cas drops his keys on the hallway table and rubs his temples, exhausted. It's been a long,  _long_  week and he's ready for a glass of whiskey and a nap. It's late in the evening, much later than he normally gets home, and he wouldn't be surprised if Dean is already fast asleep in bed. The penthouse is dark and silent, the only light coming from beneath the kitchen cabinets and from down the hallway, underneath their bedroom door. Perhaps Dean fell asleep with the light on. He's been studying hard for his next exam, and Cas feels a pang of guilt at the thought of waking him. He needs his rest. 

He's eternally grateful for the love Dean has given him over the last few weeks. The young man has a huge heart and seems to be able to stretch time so that he works, interns, sees his family and friends, and spends hours with Cas both in his arms and by his side. Castiel has thought endlessly of proposing, of making it all official and declaring to the world how much he adores Dean, but he's afraid of the potential rejection, fear keeping him from taking that leap. He knows Dean loves him unconditionally; the trust he's placed in Cas is evidence of that. The way they love each other is intense and deep, in and out of the bedroom, and sometimes he knows Dean finds it all overwhelming. 

He goes to sit down on the expensive couch, picking up a pair of dark-rimmed glasses before he flattens them, smiling as he pictures Dean curled up with a book, a gentle frown on his handsome face as he reads, and his heart aches with the sudden need to see him. 

“Hey, Cas,” There's movement at the door, almost as though fate was listening, and Cas glances up. Dean is leaning against the doorframe, clad only in a tight pair of black boxer-briefs and a smile hovering somewhere between mischievous and sensual. “You're home late.”

“And you have no idea how much I regret that.”

Cas crosses the room in three strides and Dean smiles for just a second before his lips are captured. Cas tilts his chin and his tongue demands entry: he licks deep into Dean’s mouth until his boyfriend is melting against him, fisting his hands in his clothing and humming happily against his lips. 

“I knew you'd be tired,” Dean breathes when they break apart. “I left dinner in the oven, I thought we could eat and then I could run you a hot bath…” He trails off, head tipping back as Cas attacks his neck with kisses and gentle nips. 

“That does sound pleasant, Dean. You're so good to me,” Cas slides a hand down Dean’s spine then cups his ass with both hands, pulling him tight against him - Dean gasps. He's hard already, aching in his boxers, and he can feel how aroused Cas is through the fabric of his expensive suit. “But I think I'd rather spend some quality time with you.” He squeezes Dean’s ass, parting his cheeks through his underwear, and his boyfriend squirms against him, trying and failing to hide his arousal. “But then again, I think you were trying to distract me, am I right?” 

He releases Dean, his hands trailing back up his spine then he spins the younger man around in his arms until Dean’s back is pressed against his chest. With deft, sure fingers he explores the planes of his boyfriend’s stomach, the dip of his hip flexors, the abs sculpted by hours in the gym, then up to his pecs and his nipples which are hardened already by the cool air in the apartment and by Dean’s desire. Castiel nuzzles, kisses, then bites the junction of Dean’s shoulder and neck, drawing a low cry from the man in his arms. With a sly smirk, he gently rubs his thumbs across Dean’s nipples, working them until Dean is writhing against him and evidently more than eager. 

“That's naughty, Dean,” Cas breathes into his ear. “I know exactly what you were up to. Walking around half naked, knowing I wouldn't be able to resist you… I think you had this all planned out.”

“Maybe,” Dean presses back into Cas’ arms. “Maybe I just missed you. And wanted you really bad. Sir.”

And that's it, that's the word. Their evening has changed: Dean wants to scene. And with him looking so perfect and acting so irresistible, who is Cas to deny him?

“Go and put your collar on,” Cas commands, his voice low and gravelly the way he knows Dean likes. “Then wait for me in our bedroom.”

And Dean goes, obedient as always. Cas watches him walk away, watches the muscles in his thighs flex and watches his ass as he goes. And thinks for the hundredth time that he's the luckiest man alive. 

He takes his time, making his beautiful sub wait on purpose. He loosens his tie, pours himself a glass of whiskey and takes a sip, puts his shoes and jacket away, then fills a glass with water for Dean for later, and makes his way slowly down the hall to where he knows his sub is lying in wait. Or rather, he hopes, kneeling in wait. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm just going to have fun with this one. Dean and Cas are so perfect together and have the best chemistry, right? ♥

Dean doesn't see Castiel enter, that much is evident. His beautiful, perfect sub is kneeling on the floor beside the bed, facing the window obscured by blinds, and his head is bowed and eyes on the floor. Cas is quiet on purpose, wanting to observe Dean without the younger man putting on a front for him. He wants to see the lines of his body and the tilt of his head, the way his lashes almost touch his cheeks as his eyes are barely open. He wants to look at the black of Dean’s underwear and the way they hug his ass so deliciously in his kneeling position, and he wants to see the collar that marks Dean as his and his alone. It's leather, black with green stitching, a brass buckle at the back and an O-ring at the front, and it's perfect. They chose it together online when Dean was nude and exhausted and cuddly after a scene, and Cas had encouraged him to pick anything he wanted from one of their favourite stores. Dean had chosen the collar and matching wrist cuffs, and had buried his face in Cas’ neck when he asked for them to be stamped with Cas’ initials on the inside, right where the smooth lining touches his pulse point. He had been so specific that it had been clear it wasn't a stray idea, and Cas had almost choked up at the suggestion. 

Dean is beautiful, his skin glowing in the light from the table lamp. He's keeping his position so perfectly, knees apart and feet almost touching, the lines of his shoulders relaxed and at ease. He's gorgeous to Cas, always, but like this he's something special. This is the Dean nobody else sees, the Dean that gives in to the deepest, most undisclosed desires of is heart, and allows Cas to be the one to lead him there. 

Cas, holding both glasses in one hand, approaches his kneeling sub quietly and runs his fingertips across Dean’s shoulders, tightening his grip comfortingly when Dean startles and looks up. 

“I didn't hear you come in, sir.”

“No, I know you didn't.” Cas sets both glasses down on the nearest cabinet and turns back to Dean. “I wanted to admire you for a moment.”

Dean shrugs, his shoulders slumping a little. “Not much to admire.”

“Hey,” Cas drops to one knee in front of his partner, his sub, and tilts Dean’s chin so their eyes can meet. “None of that. You know how beautiful you are, and how much I love you.” He presses their mouths together in a chaste kiss. “Never doubt that.”

“Sorry, sir.” Dean’s eyes sparkle a little when Cas pulls away. “Won't say it again.”

“You won't  _think_  it again,” Cas reprimands. “And I think I need to remind you that you belong to me, Dean. And I don't like hearing negativity about my things. Understand?”

“Yes,” There's a definite glint in Dean’s eyes now, he's clearly excited and anticipating Cas’ next move. “I'm sorry, sir. Punish me how you see fit.”

“I will. Eyes on the floor.”

Cas stands up again, not checking whether or not Dean has followed his command. He already knows he has. He turns back to their glasses, taking another sip of whiskey and eyeing the ice in the glass thoughtfully. 

“Are you warm enough, Dean?”

“Uh, yeah?” There's a question in his voice, then he corrects himself quickly. “Yes, sir. I'm warm enough.”

“Good.” Cas dips two fingers into his glass, scooping out two ice cubes and concealing them in his palms while he walks around Dean, moving to stand behind him so his sub’s back is pressed up against his shins, the ice cubes cold in his fingers and already beginning to melt. Then he reaches down and runs them delicately from Dean’s collarbones down, right down to his nipples and Dean gasps, jerking at the sensation. 

“Fuck!”

“Quiet, boy.” Cas murmurs, enjoying the way Dean is writhing, pressing back against his legs to shy away from the cold. He cups his hands over the ice cubes and circles them around Dean’s nipples - already hard and tender. Dean whines; his hands come up to grip Cas’ wrists but instead of pushing him away he holds on tight and pulls closer. “Oh, you like that, don't you?”

Dean nods, turning his head to the side and pressing his cheek into Cas’ thigh. “Yes, sir. Feels… weird. But yes, I like it.”

“Good. I thought you would. You're so sensitive…”

The ice is melting rapidly now, two wet rivulets running down Dean’s chest, over his abs to dampen his boxer shorts. Cas leans over to look. Dean is hard in his underwear, a damp spot at the tip of his cock, and Cas can clearly see the outline of his shaft. It makes his mouth water as he pictures pulling Dean up, throwing him on the bed and stripping him, taking his cock into his mouth and pleasuring him. He loves the feel of his sub’s cock on his tongue, hot and heavy, and he's distracted from his thoughts suddenly by Dean nuzzling his cheek against Cas’ own erection, looking up at him with dark, lust-filled eyes. He steps away so abruptly that Dean topples back, only just catching himself on his hands. 

“Bad boy. I didn't say you could touch.”

“I'm sorry, sir,” The wicked look in Dean’s eyes combined with his sultry tone says that he isn't sorry at all. “You should punish me, right?”

“Up.” Nettled by Dean’s blatant disobedience, Cas wraps a hand into his sub’s hair and pulls - not hard, but enough to force Dean to follow - and drags him to the bed. He holds Dean there by his hair but pulls him close to his body, landing a hard slap to the soft skin of his upper thigh. Dean gasps and lets out a soft cry of shock; his cock twitches in interest against Cas’ hip. He twists his fingers in the soft, dirty blonde strands so Dean’s head is tilted to the side and speaks very slowly, very quietly into his ear. “Sit. Don't move, don't speak, eyes on the floor. You're really testing your luck today, boy. Try my patience again and I'll end this scene and you won't get to come for a week. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, yes sir. I'm sorry.” And he means it this time, eyes downcast and cheeks flushed. Cas manhandles Dean into the position he wants: sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide, hands clasped behind him. 

“Move an inch and I'll cuff you.” Cas regards his pretty sub critically, then changes his mind. “Actually, I don't trust that you can sit still tonight. Not with what I have in store for you. Wait there.”

He pulls the black leather cuffs from their drawer of toys and admires them for a second. The leather is soft, worn in from their play, and he knows Dean loves them. His sub is sitting motionless on the edge of the bed, doing exactly as he's told, and he looks so beautiful that Cas has to stop himself from crossing the room and ravaging Dean’s beautiful body until they're both sweaty and come-drenched. He wants this to last. He kneels down on the bed and takes Dean’s wrists one at a time, sliding the cuffs around them and tightening until they're perfect. Then he loops the leather strap through the O-rings, binding Dean’s hands tightly behind his back. 

“Colour?” Cas checks in, running his hands up Dean’s arms to his shoulder to check for any unusual twisting or tension of his muscles. 

“Green,” comes the response and Cas nods, pleased. 

He returns to the cabinet and sips his whiskey, watching his sub sit and wait for him, looking undeniably perfect. Dean is already descending into subspace, Cas can tell. His breathing is deep and slow, his muscles relaxed, and there's a faraway look in his eyes that says he's feeling at ease in Cas’ control. Dean has been a good sub from day one, but it took some time for them to really get in sync with each other. Nothing about their relationship was structured or contrived. Dean made no lists of limits and they hadn't signed any contracts. Everything was word of mouth: Cas had asked Dean after their second night together to tell him what he did and didn't like. He had lain in Cas’ arms, blissfully naked, and had told him quietly that he enjoys being tied up, that being blindfolded is one of his favourite things, and he loves playing with toys both with a partner and alone. He likes having his legs spread with bars, loves being spanked when he misbehaves, and that he has a thing for giving head. 

“I just like giving up control, dunno why.” He had said, his head pillowed on Cas’ chest, almost purring as Cas ran his hands gently over ever inch of skin he could reach. “Love having my mouth taken. It's a kinky thing, I guess. Is it weird?”

“No, beautiful boy,” Cas had replied, kissing Dean’s hair and pulling him in close. “The way you give your trust to me is incredible. It's a gift, and one I cherish. I'll never harm you, Dean. Whatever you want, it's yours.”

And despite Cas being the dominant partner, Dean has all the control, really. Never once has he safeworded or called out ‘red’ during their scenes; he's never had reason to. Cas is a caring, gentle dom and keeps Dean’s wants and needs at the forefront of every scene. He never pushes boundaries unless specifically asked, and Dean has only asked once. He'd come home from work at the garage with tear-streaked cheeks. It transpired he had been sitting in his car in the underground parking lot beneath Cas’ building for an hour, crying, after a car he’d jacked up had slipped off and narrowly missed crushing his colleague, Ash. His uncle had given him hell and sent him home, telling him not to come back until he had his shit together. Concerned, Cas had hastened to his boyfriend’s side but Dean had stopped him with a hand on his chest. 

“Don't, Cas.” He had said, cheeks wet and eyes red, bottom lip swollen from his own teeth. “I don't need pity or sympathy. I need…” He had swallowed, looked at the ground. “I need you to punish me. To make it hurt. Don't stop unless I say so. Please, Cas. Sir, please.”

Dean hadn't safeworded, but Cas had only pushed him as far as he knew was safe, binding Dean’s arms and bending him over the back of the sofa, pulling his grease-stained jeans down just enough to give him the roughest spanking he's ever dared. Dean had sobbed towards the end, had climaxed without being touched, and had allowed Cas to care for him for the rest of the night and well into the next day until he felt ready to be left alone. Even then, Cas had come home early from work to run Dean a bath and give his shoulders and back a massage to help rid him of any residual tension. That night, Dean had kept waking with low cries after nightmares of accidents at work, and Cas had held him through it, and they'd made love not as dom and sub but as Dean and Cas - and by morning Dean was back to his usual self and back to work. 

Cas dips his fingers into his drink, fishing out another ice cube and playing with it slowly, watching Dean. His boyfriend is so sensitive, all over. His nipples especially, and Cas loves to take advantage of that fact. He crosses the room slowly, still fully dressed, and kneels in front of Dean and watches his sub’s eyes widen in surprise. Obedient, Dean keeps his eyes on the floor and licks his bottom lip in a nervous movement. It's clear it's taking all the willpower he possesses not to look up and meet the penetrating gaze of his dom. 

“Close your eyes and lift your head,” Cas commands and Dean hastens to comply, dark lashes fluttering closed onto his freckled cheeks. “And don't speak unless I tell you to.”

Setting his glass down on the carpet, Cas fishes out another ice cube and leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to Dean’s chest, right in the centre. Then he brushes a cold thumb over Dean’s right nipple, following it up immediately with the ice cube - and Dean gasps audibly. Cas smirks, watching every muscle spasm, every chest rise and fall, listening to every gasp and sigh as he works Dean’s nipple to hardness once more with the ice. He circles it and uses the corner of the slowly-melting cube to toy and play slowly, and Dean’s breath quickens as he leans in to follow the movements with his tongue.

“How does it feel, beautiful boy?” Cas nips Dean gently, drawing a low moan from his sub. “Tell me.”

“‘S good,” Dean’s eyes are closed and he's biting his bottom lip so hard it looks swollen and raw. “Numb… But still so sensitive - ahh!” Cas has bitten him again, instantly soothing his hardened nipple with the ice then lapping teasingly at him. “Fuck, sir, please don't stop. I love this.”

Cas sits back, discarding the ice cube back into the glass as it melts. He bites gently at Dean’s swollen, tender nipple again, soothing with his tongue immediately after, then selects a second ice cube and moves to his sub’s left to give it the same treatment. While he rubs the ice cube over Dean, he uses his tongue and fingers simultaneously to work his sub up into a frenzy. By the time he's finished, Dean is panting and whining, head tipped back to expose the gorgeous expanse of his throat, and Cas can't help but move up to bite and suck at his collarbone, leaving a dark red stain which he knows Dean will have for days. He wraps his arms around his sub and trails kisses all down his neck from jawline to pec, nipping gently as he goes. Dean leans into him, keeping his head back to allow Cas access, whining low in his throat when Cas leans up to capture his mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. 

“Lie back, boy.” Cas stands up, undoing his tie with jerky, hurried movements, his cock painfully hard and aching in his pants. He needs his sub  _now_ , needs the wet heat of his mouth and needs to mark him up with his come. “Now then your head to the side - no, the other side - and part your lips.”

Dean looks beautiful lying spread out this way. His feet are still on the floor, legs spread wide, and his bound hands beneath his lower back make his body arch beautifully. He's flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat and the remnants of the melted ice, making his tanned skin almost glow in the lamplight. He's still in his boxer-briefs which are soaked with water, saliva and pre-come, and Cas can see the perfect outline of his beautiful, straining cock. He must be aching by now, painfully aroused and needy, but he's being so good. So well-behaved. Cas can't wait to reward him with pleasure, to hear his helpless cries and watch his body tremble as he endures his orgasm. Or orgasms, plural, depending on how Cas is feeling later. Dean always comes incredibly hard when they scene, sometimes to the point of being dazed and drowsy for ages afterwards. His head is turned just perfectly, mouth open as he breathes heavily, and he knows what's coming. The way he keeps licking his lips makes that abundantly clear. Cas unfastened his pants, pushes them and his boxers down just enough so he can reach in and take out his cock, then he moves to the side of the bed to stand over Dean, lying helpless beneath him. 

“Colour, Dean.” He strokes himself a couple of times, sighing with pleasure at the touch of his own hand, watching pre-come bead at the tip of his cock, and has to stop himself wiping it across Dean’s full bottom lip. The lip that Dean wets with his own tongue before answering. 

“Green…” His voice is low, rough with need, and Cas smirks at the thought of how strained it will be when he's done with him. “Please, sir. Please. I want to taste you.”

Cas reaches down and runs a thumb over Dean’s swollen bottom lip, dipping it inside and massaging his sub’s tongue gently. Then he moves one knee up into the bed and, holding the base of his own shaft, presses the tip last Dean’s lips and into his wet, willing mouth. Dean whines, tongue working to lap the moisture from the slit, then Cas presses further in, hand coming down to Dean’s throat to hold him in place - and exert a little pressure. When they'd discussed Dean’s love for giving oral pleasure, it transpires he also enjoys being choked and having his breathing restricted. They don't do it often, but when they do it's intense and Dean loves every second of it. Cas braces his other hand on the headboard and allows Dean to tip his head back further, taking him deeper, and the warmth of his mouth is heavenly. Pleasure courses up and down Castiel’s spine, pooling in his groin, and his eyes fall closed in rapture. He thrusts in just a little, testing, and when he's sure Dean is at the right angle he pushes forward, filling his sub’s eager mouth with cock. 

Dean  _moans_ , low and wanton, and the vibrations of his throat around Cas’ dick make Cas inhale sharply as his pleasure spikes. He pulls out just enough for Dean to take a breath then thrusts back in, deep into Dean’s throat this time, and it feels incredible. He pries his eyes open so he can see the scene laid out before him and has to fight back a wave of pleasure as Dean chooses that moment to swallow around him, deepthroating him like a pro. Dean’s spine is arched beautifully, his hands bound beneath him, and his abused nipples stand out on his chest, raw and tender. Cas can’t resist  releasing Dean’s throat to give the left one a firm tug, and relishes Dean’s choked cry of desire. His gaze travels down to the rigid, damp length of Dean’s cock still cruelly encased in his boxers. He's swollen thick with arousal, and he's spread his legs even wider, no doubt desperate for any sort of relief if the gentle thrusts of his hips up into thin air are anything to go by. Feeling generous, Cas leans down and cups his lover’s balls gently, rubbing the shaft with his thumb, and Dean arches off the bed. The movement pushes Cas’ cock somehow deeper into his throat and Dean chokes, coughing as Cas quickly pulls out to allow him to breathe. 

“Colour, babe- I mean, colour, boy?” Cas curses himself for the error. He's always completely in character as Dean’s dom, only ever slipping up occasionally and letting a pet name slip in. Dean swallows a mouthful of saliva, his eyes red and damp and cheeks flushed, gazing up through his lashes. 

“Green, sir. Fuck my mouth.” He sounds wrecked, and Cas is only too happy to oblige. 

He pushes his cock back into Dean’s mouth, deep into his throat and starts to grind his hips, holding his sub down with one hand on the base of his neck, watching Dean’s lips stretch around him. He braces himself on the headboard with his other hand, leaning forward and letting gravity help him thrust deeper. Dean is moaning wantonly, arching his hips and groaning around his mouthful of cock, and Cas is being dragged quickly towards the edge by his sub’s eager mouth. 

“Fuck. Gonna come, boy. Gonna give you what you want, want you to swallow every drop. You fuck this up and you don't come, you hear me?” A low, lewd moan is the only response he gets before Dean swallows around him and his pleasure spikes. “ _Fuck.”_

Dean’s cheeks are flushed and wet with reactionary tears, he must be desperate for breath, but he swallows once more and the tightening of his throat around Cas’ shaft is why does it. Cas thrusts deeply into Dean’s mouth once more and throws his head back as his orgasm hits, pleasure singing through his entire body as he pumps a load into his sub’s throat, feeling Dean swallow desperately around him. When the pulsing of his cock has slowed, he pulls out and leaves just the tip resting on Dean’s tongue and allows him to catch his breath, moaning quietly as he fills Dean’s mouth with one last pulse of come. When he pulls away completely, he gazes down at his wrecked lover and his cock twitches in weak interest. Dean looks  _wrecked_ , lips slick and swollen and streaked with come, eyes sparkling and cheeks reddened. And he looks on the edge of orgasm himself, chest heaving and hips thrusting in aborted little circles into nothing. 

“Sir,” his voice is cracked and raw from the deep throat-fucking Cas has just given him. “Please…”

And Cas reaches for him, cupping himself with his other hand, gripping Dean tight through his boxers and that's all it takes. One stroke and Dean’s coming, crying out helplessly, eyes scrunched tightly closed and neck arched as pleasure cascades through him. He soaks his underwear and Cas’ hand with come, writhing on the bed with his legs spread wide, and makes the most beautiful whining sounds Castiel has ever heard as his pleasure begins to subside. Soon his sub is lying panting on the bed, glazed-eyed with his chest heaving and his entire body glowing with sweat, and Cas is sliding an arm beneath him to help him sit up. 

Dean is barely able to hold his own weight up and slumps into Cas’ arms, not bothering or able to move as his cuffs are taken off. Cas strips him of his underwear and tosses it away, wiping him down with a warm cloth he seems to have conjured from nowhere. Then Cas gathers him in his arms, one arm tight around his waist, and drags him up the bed to the other side where within minutes they're snuggled together under the blankets. 

“When did you get undressed?” Dean murmurs, his body relaxed and mind blissfully fuzzy as he cuddles up to Cas’ strong chest. He's nude, Castiel is in a pair of blue CKs, and the sheets are warm and soft. 

“When you were recovering. Can you drink this for me?” Cas nudges him to sit up just enough to swallow a few mouthfuls of water. “Was that OK? Does your throat hurt?”

“Yeah,” Dean coughs experimentally. “The Good kinda hurt. Loved every second of it.”

“Good.” Cas kisses his hair. “I'm still not sure that was an adequate punishment for dragging me straight to bed with no dinner, though.”

“You'll have to think up something else then, won't you?” Dean’s sleepy smile has a wicked edge to it, and his eyes close as he snuggles down comfortably. 

“I will. I love you, Dean.” Cas says. He always says it after a scene, always makes sure Dean hears it and knows he's loved and cared for, no matter what they do. 

“Love ya, Cas…”

Dean sleeps, but Castiel doesn’t. Thoughts of other ways he can punish Dean distract him, and by the early hours he's hard again, and they fuck gently as the sun comes up, Cas inside Dean, and Dean moaning and crying out his boyfriend’s name as his body arches into another orgasm. Castiel smiles, adding gagging to the ever-expanding list he's working on. 


	3. Chapter 3

The penthouse is quiet and still, and Castiel is reading by the light of one of the little table lamps. He's had a long day. A long week, in fact, and now it's Friday night and he has a report to finish for Monday morning. He could leave it to do over the weekend, but he and Dean have plans and he doesn't want his work to eat into their time together. He's got a glass of wine on the table beside him, the dirty plates from dinner are in the sink, and Mozart is streaming from the vintage record player beside the window. Outside, below them, life carries on in the city and Cas can hear the buzz and hum of it all as he frowns and makes a note in a margin. The window is cracked, letting in a gentle breeze, and Cas sips his wine thoughtfully. 

He thinks of Dean. Of his gorgeous, handsome partner who he adores, and how amazing the last few months have been. He considers how different his life would be now if they weren't together. He would still be a workaholic, still have hardly any social life besides his brother and his cousins, and he would still be booking up with random pretty boys in the vain hope of finding something more. He would be unfulfilled and unhappy. He wonders what Dean’s life would be like. He would maybe be flirting about from partner to partner, carefree. Not hiding away a secret relationship with a much older man - not that half the office don't know that they're together. But certain parts of their love remain hidden to prying eyes and always will. Castiel isn't ashamed of the kinks he enjoys but he would rather his colleagues remained unaware - and so would Dean. 

He sets down his glass and checks his watch. Dean always works late on Fridays, frequently stumbling in at past ten at night, bleary-eyed and starving, covered in sweat and grease. 

But not tonight. 

Castiel walks down the long, immaculate hallway to their bedroom and pauses outside the half-open door, listening. Then he pushes it all the way open to admire the sight before him. 

There, on the bed and gorgeously nude, tightly bound and covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, is Dean. 

His sub is on his knees, legs spread wide, and his chest and shoulders are pressed into the sheets. His arms are stretched out in front of him and bound tightly together then to the headboard. He's blindfolded, and black leather cuffs grip his ankles with a steel spreader bar between them, forcing them apart. He's beautiful, aroused and clearly on edge, his cock thick and swollen between his legs and his balls tight to his body. He's undulating his hips in a needy rhythm, clearly desperate for some form of contact, and Cas can hear his pants and gasps from across the room. Dean twitches at the sound of the door, turning his head from one side to the other to rest his cheek on the sheets, and Cas stands there watching him for a moment. Between Dean’s tanned, firm ass cheeks he can just see the hilt of a toy fitting snugly into his hole. It's a thick toy, a black silicone vibrator, curved in just the right places and flared out towards the base to stretch Dean wide. And it's turned on to one of its middle settings. Cas knows this because he put it there an hour ago, when he bound Dean and covered his eyes, and left him alone as a punishment for snapping at him at work the previous day. 

“Are you learning your lesson, boy?” He queries, voice low and purposefully blasé. Dean's entire body quakes and he nods frantically. His lips part as though he's about to speak before remembering that he isn't allowed. Cas smiles. Such a good boy. 

“Good. I'm finishing writing a report for work. I'll be done in another…twenty minutes.” He smirks as Dean gives a choked little moan at the thought of being left again. He had planned this punishment thoroughly beforehand and gave Dean a short summary of what he had in mind. They've never done this for so long before: leaving Dean by himself and restrained, but Cas has given him a small electronic buzzer to keep in his hand, and should it get too much all he has to do is press it and Castiel will hear it in any room of the house. He approaches his boy and runs delicate fingers up his sweat-slick spine to his hair. Dean looks wrecked, his cheeks burning and the blindfold damp with sweat and tears. 

“Colour, pretty thing?”

“Green, sir.” Again, Dean looks like he wants to say something else but stops, and Castiel pats him encouragingly on the shoulder. 

“You're doing very well. You can hold out a little longer, I know you can. Although I think this may be too easy for you. Here, let me…”

He reaches down between his sub's parted thighs to grip the base of the vibrator. Dean can't contain a moan and arches his hips back, pushing the toy a little deeper and Cas holds it there for a moment, allowing his sub to grind on it and drinking in the wanton little sounds that spill from Dean’s lips. Then he turns it up to the next setting and Dean keens, arching his back, chest pushing down into the sheets and ass up in the air. He's writhing, pulling hard on his wrist restraints, his body arching beautifully and Cas steps away to look at him. 

“So perfect for me, boy. Be good just a little longer and I'll let you come.”

Dean whines, canting his hips in a futile attempt to either escape the vibrator pulsing inside him or to chase it for more, and Cas turns to leave him, casting a glance back over his shoulder at his beautiful sub. Dean really is a dream to behold when he's like this, on edge and gasping. Somehow, he manages to focus on his report again but only for ten minutes. He manages to write another eighty words, finishes his glass of wine, then heads back down the hall. To his credit, Dean has kept his position beautifully. He's got his forehead to the bed now between his arms, the muscles of his shoulders tensing as he rocks gently back and forth using his cuffed wrists as leverage, and he's panting hard. 

“Still so eager for me, aren't you beautiful boy?” Cas muses, running a finger through a pool of sweat in the dip of Dean’s spine. “Holding out so well. Are you learning to hold your tongue?”

Dean nods frantically, gripping the straps binding him to the headboard with white-knuckled hands. 

“Good. Let's see how much more you can take before I allow you to come, hmm?”

Cas kneels down behind his sub, focusing in on Dean’s balls and how tight they are to his body. His lover is close to orgasm and it won't take much to push him over the edge. Gently, Cas cups the tender sac and runs a thumb over each of Dean’s balls in gentle circles, feeling the coarse hair beneath his fingertips. Dean keens, trying to arch away from the overstimulation so Cas leans forward and chases his touch with his tongue. Dean tastes and smells of sweat and precome, rich and musky, and this close Cas can both hear and feel the vibrator pulsing relentlessly inside Dean, driving him wild with sensation. 

“Sir… Can't… Gonna, gonna come…”

“Don't you dare, Dean.” Cas leans in close and runs the tip of his tongue around Dean’s tight rim where it's stretched wide around the relentlessly throbbing toy. It must be driving Dean wild; it's larger than the ones they normally play with, and he'd spent a good fifteen minutes between Dean’s legs opening him up enough to take it. Dean had already been bound, was sighing quietly into his forearms when Cas had knelt behind him and eaten him out until he was a writhing, panting mess. Then he has started to finger him. He'd got to four fingers, had Dean’s rim wet with lube and spit, and had been massaging his prostate in gentle, deliberate circles that had his sub trembling before he'd inserted the toy. Dean had taken it beautifully, inch by inch, and Cas had almost lost his control as he watched his perfect sub’s hole stretch to accommodate the vibrator. He’d made sure it was in deep, resting at the perfect angle to give Dean’s prostate all the relentless stimulation he wanted, before he turned it on. Dean’s low cry of enjoyment still rang in his ears. “You don't have permission to do that. Or to speak.”

“Sir, please!” His cry is wild and untamed and he pushes his hips back desperately into Cas’ face. He's either forgotten the command not to talk, or has stopped caring, the desire coursing through his veins becoming too much. “Please!”

“Dean!” Cas lands a hard slap to his sub’s quivering thigh, watching as the skin turns immediately red in the shape of his handprint. “Quiet!”

Dean whimpers and presses his forehead into the sheets; he's achingly hard between his thighs, the tip of his cock soaked with precome and the sheets damp beneath him. Cas leans in again, massaging his sub’s balls and lapping gently at his stretched hole until he can feel Dean’s body tensing up, his gasps becoming frantic, seconds from climaxing against his will. He pulls back, removes his hands, and drinks in the long, drawn-out wail that spills from his lover. He's still fully-dressed himself, his cock a hard, aching line in his pants but it isn't about him right now. It's all about Dean. 

“Sir, oh god, please…”

With a hand resting on the small of Dean’s back to keep him in place, Cas lands another four slaps to the shaking thighs, one for every word uttered. 

“Fuck… oh, fuck…”

Three more. He wonders if Dean will catch on before orgasm overwhelms him. 

“Sir, I can’t… I can't…”

Four more, two on each cheek and Cas watches as Dean’s skin reddens slowly beneath his palm. He knows Dean is almost at his limit and as soon as he quiets he fully intends to reward him. 

“I… I…” Dean falls silent, gasping into the sweaty skin of his forearm - Cas notices a red patch where he's been biting down on his own flesh to try and stop his moans - and when Cas delivers two more slaps to Dean’s shaking thighs his sub remains quiet. Hopefully. Trembling violently all over. At his limit. 

He reaches between Dean’s legs, holding the vibrator still as Dean rocks back onto it, and wraps a hand around his thick, aching shaft. It takes two strokes and a twist of his fingers at the head to send Dean over the edge and he positively screams as he comes, pushing his body back towards Cas, onto the toy, as pulse after pulse of come spills from him and soaks his dom’s hand and the sheet below him. Cas just watches, enraptured. The vibrator is so deep inside his sub’s body, on its highest setting, and the stimulation must be incredible. He twists it experimentally and Dean groans, more come dripping from him as his prostate is endlessly massaged, and strangled cry catches in his throat. 

“Cas… Cas!” He's sobbing now, face buried in the sheets, and Cas waits until his desperate rocking motions have subsided into quiet tremors before turning the toy down then off, sliding it out gently and passing a thumb over Dean’s stretched, gaping rim. It barely tenses at his touch, yet Dean shudders. Cas then reaches down and unlocks the spreader bar from his ankles, touching his thighs and lower back as much as he can to reassure his sub that he's there. 

“Shh, it's OK, Dean. You did so well, so beautiful for me. Lie down now, on your side.” Dean complies, sniffling and trying to calm himself as Cas moves up to unlock his wrist cuffs and then, lastly, removed the soaking blindfold and waits for Dean to blink up at him. His eyes are dark and unfocused, tears clinging to long lashes, and Cas doesn't hesitate to wrap him tightly in his arms and kiss him deeply. “I love you, Dean. You're OK, take your time.”

It's a good thirty seconds before Dean comes back to himself enough to sling an arm around Cas and pull in close; he's still painting and trembling, soaked with sweat, and Cas kisses every inch of him he can reach, taking care to check Dean’s wrists for any marks or abrasions. They're red from his constant pulling at the cuffs, but aside from that he's unscathed. 

“Fuck…” Dean’s head tips back onto the pillow and his eyes fall closed. “That was… Unreal.”

“Are you alright?” Cas kicks away the damp topsheet and pulls the blanket up around Dean, allowing him time to recover before dragging him through to the bathroom. He strokes Dean’s sweat-damp hair and thinks he should run him a hot bath to help ease any aches in his muscles for being in the same position for so long. 

“Yeah. That was…” Dean hugs a little closer, tremors slowly subsiding. “Incredible.” Beneath the covers he slides a hand down behind him and pulls a strange, glazed-eyed face. “Fuck, I'm so slack. Jesus, Cas, I can't believe we just did that. Fucking awesome.”

“Yeah, it was.” Cas kisses him. “You were awesome.”

“Only thanks to you. Am nothing without you.”

Dean reclines against the pillows, stretching, and soon allows Cas to coax him into the bathroom where they both soak in the tub for almost an hour, Dean lying against Cas’ chest, then Dean gives him head under the shower spray and Cas comes with a low cry of his lover’s name, a hand fisted in Dean’s hair and his head tipped back against the tiles. 

They both sleep exceptionally well that night. 


	4. Chapter 4

Cas frowns down at his spreadsheet and makes a correction with a red-nibbed pen. Then, further down, scribbles an annotation and underlined it neatly. It's hot outside, really hot, and he's loosened his tie for the occasion. The air-con at The Amara Group doesn't seem to be very high up on the budget as it never functions properly and Cas has grumbled about it to maintenance on more than one occasion - to no avail. So as a result, he has his shirtsleeves pushed up, his top button undone, and his blazer draped neatly over one of his tub chairs beside the giant glass window that stretches across the expanse of one wall. It looks out across the city, and is Cas’ favourite thing about having his own office.

He's got the door locked, but outside he can hear the usual sounds of work life: the phone ringing the fax machine bleeping, murmured voices, and music playing from someone’s iMac. It's a normal day at the office, except for one thing: Dean.

His intern is sitting in his lap, pants pooled around his ankles and his back against Castiel’s chest, panting lightly. His head is tipped back against Cas’ temple and his eyes are closed, little sounds of enjoyment spilling from his lips every moment or two. He still wears his shirt and tie, but his hair is messed up and his lips are swollen from fierce kisses - and Castiel’s cock is buried to the hilt inside him.

They don't fuck at the office often; it's too risky and they're likely to be caught but today he knows his secretary has left early and since it's so warm most people have taken the afternoon off. When Dean had swaggered in on his bow-legged gait, grinning easily and leaning on the desk with the promises of ice cream and walks on the pier, Cas had almost caved. Then he had thought of something he would enjoy much, much more - and seeing Dean’s eyes darken and breathing speed up was entirely worth the risk of getting caught. In his lap, Dean shifts, earning a displeased sound from Cas who nudges him lightly without taking his eyes off his spreadsheet. He holds Dean securely in his lap, one arm around his waist, and has been absently playing with him for some time now, stroking and cupping his balls, massaging his shaft, and dipping his thumb into the wetness at the head of Dean’s erect cock. He's given Dean two simple instructions: do not speak, and do not move. And as a result, Dean has been sitting in his lap warming his cock for the better part of an hour while Cas gently edges him, dragging him close to completion then letting him fall away when the muscles of Dean’s ass begin to tighten around him and his breathing becomes laboured. He can feel it now, Dean’s body beginning to lock up and clenching in spasms around his own aching cock, so he eases off and strokes the soft skin of Dean’s belly as his sub pants, whining, desperate for release.

It's been a slow, sensuous build up. Dean had blown him while he sat at his desk and worked, then he had fingered Dean while his sub straddled him and kissed him breathlessly, grinding his hips and wordlessly asking for more. Then he had fulfilled one of his long-time fantasies and bent Dean over the desk, pinning his wrists behind him with one hand while spreading his ass with the other and eating him out until Dean was a gasping, mewling mess. He had then given Dean a condom and instructed him to put it on him with his mouth while he straightened out his desk - and binned a load of paperwork now smeared with pre-come and sweat - then had pulled his lover into his lap and lowered him steadily onto his cock until Dean was reaching back to grip his hair and arching his hips for more. Then he had given his instructions and felt the boy sag against him, needy but excited, and so their afternoon had commenced.

He works Dean’s cock once more, stroking his shaft and feeling him pulse in his hand, his fingers quickly becoming slick once more with pre-come. Dean is always at his neediest when his cock is wet and dripping, and that's true now as his sub’s hips arch helplessly in his lap, pushing Cas deeper and drawing groans from both of them.

“Want to come, Dean?” Cas growls into his neck, nipping him then kissing his sweat-damp hair. “You think you've earned it?”

“Yes,” Dean gasps our, turning to offer his mouth for a kiss. “I've earned it, _please_.”

“I think you have,” Cas captures his sub’s lips in a deep, searching kiss and licks into Dean’s mouth possessively. He opens the top drawer of his desk and fishes out a foil packet, pressing it into his lover’s hand. They've learned the hard way that cleaning up is easier using condoms - unless oral sex is involved. “Put this on before I come and you'll get your reward.”

It sounds simple enough - Dean’s hands tremble as he rips open the packet - but typically Cas wants to make his sub work just a little more. He gives Dean’s cock one last squeeze then grips the boy by the hips, lifting him up an inch or two then lowering him back down onto his shaft. Dean cries out, immediately biting his lip to quieten himself, and Cas sinks his teeth into his neck - then does it again, lifting Dean a little more this time and really pulling him down into his lap so he sinks deep, grinding his own hips to push his length all the way in. He can feel his balls tightening slowly, watches as Dean fumbles with the condom, trying desperately to roll it down his own dripping cock as Cas guides him up and down his length once more. For a second, Cas thinks Dean won't manage. His own orgasm is building, his cock swelling inside Dean and stretching him just a little wider as his lover pants and whines. Then the condom is on, Dean’s hands come to cover Cas’ on his hips and they're fucking, Dean leaning forward and Cas following his movements, thrusting up hard into his sub until, with a cry, Dean comes and the clenching of his ass around Cas’ cock sends his dom over the edge and into orgasm.

They collapse back into the chair together, Dean grinding his hips in circles to coax the last of Cas’ come into the condom - Cas spurts again with a low groan, clutching his boyfriend - then they slump against each other, panting.

“That was…”

“Fucking awesome,” Dean declares, wiping a hand over his brow and grimacing at how damp it comes away. “Jesus, I won't be able to walk all day.”

Cas kisses his neck. He won't be good for much for the rest of the day either, but it doesn't matter. He's got Dean in his arms, they're exhausted and sated, and they may as well leave after they get dressed anyway and enjoy some of the summer sunshine. But first, there's something he wants to ask.

“I've got to go to France next week,” he murmurs into Dean’s nape. “For three nights. It's for work.”

“Oh,” Dean shifts and grimaces as Cas’ softened cock slips free. At that moment they're both glad they used condoms. “Right. Well, I guess we can hang out when you get back…”

“Well…” Cas traces patterns on Dean’s thigh with a fingertip. “I was hoping you'd come with me.”

Dean goes very still in his arms and panic seizes Cas by the throat. He's said the wrong thing, rushed Dean into doing something _serious,_ and he's fully expecting to be on the receiving end of his lover leaving in a hurry when Dean turns and gives him a nervous, coy smile.

“Like… You want to spend the weekend together? Away?”

“Well, yeah,” Cas laughs, a little relieved by Dean’s smile. “I'll have to work, I need to audit one of our European branches, but we’ll have a lot of time to ourselves. I'd really like to have you there.”

He punctuates his last statement with a chaste kiss to Dean’s lips in the hope of conveying exactly _how_ much he wants Dean there.

“Can I think about it? I'm just, uh, not great with flying is all.”

“Of course. It's a private jet, if that helps. Not mine - the company’s - but it will just be us and a few air stewards. I'll look after you.”

“I know you will.”

Cas kisses him again, and they eventually clean up, taking their time and stealing soft kisses every now and again, Cas cupping Dean’s jaw and exploring his mouth tenderly.

By the time they're walking down the pier together with ice creams in their hands, Dean has said yes to the mini-break and Cas feels like he's walking on air.Especially when Dean keeps nudging up against him, sending furtive ice-cream smiles his way and eventually takes his hand. Cas squeezes it back, feeling a swell of affection for the younger man as he watches him surreptitiously from the corner of his eye. Dean really is beautiful. Golden tanned skin, freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, and his dark lashes frame gorgeous green eyes. His hair has lightened during the summer and he, like Cas, has discarded his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves to allow the sun to kiss his skin. Cas is so distracted by Dean that he doesn't notice who is up ahead until they almost collide. Their head of Operations is standing just a foot away, chatting to two blonde women from marketing, and when Castiel realises they've been spotted he immediately wishes they could go back in time and avoid this scene altogether. It isn't that he doesn't want to be seen with Dean; it's almost common knowledge at work that they're dating. He just doesn't want to be seen with Dean by _this guy._

“Castiel, good to see you out enjoying the sun instead of closeted in your office for a change. If you grow any paler you’ll blend into the wall. And who have you got…” Zachariah’s voice trails off as he clocks Dean and he stares openly, and Cas’ hackles rise while, next to him, Dean colours and looks away. But he doesn't withdraw his hand. If anything, his fingers tighten around Cas’.

Zachariah has a thing for Dean. He's cornered him in the break room, at the copier, in the elevator, and even in Castiel’s office in an attempt to ask him out. Each time Dean has been polite in his declines yet the message just hasn't gone in. Now, Castiel hopes, it might.

“Dean!” Zachariah pastes on a smile that barely hides the jealous glint in his eyes. “What a pleasure! I had no idea you and Castiel were friends outside of work.” His beady eyes flick to Cas’ face then back to Dean's. Cas waits a beat to see if a response is forthcoming and, when it becomes clear that Dean is tongue-tied in front of his colleagues, he turns to Zachariah with a weight in his chest, prepared to downplay what they are to each other.

“Dean and I-”

“Are together,” Dean finishes, finally looking up at Zachariah with hatred in his eyes. “Have been for a while. Thought everyone knew but I guess not.” He glances at the two women who are smiling politely, clearly not particularly interested in the conversation. “Now, excuse us. We have a trip to go pack for.”

And with that, Dean tugs Cas back down the pier much to Zachariah’s displeasure. As Cas chances one last look back at his colleague he's pleased to see the stout man turn away, scowling and pink-cheeked. When they're further down the pier, Cas pulls Dean to a stop.

“You didn't have to do that. I could have come up with something.”

“Like what kinda something?” Dean smiles, green eyes dancing. “That you're my boss both in _and_ out of work?”

“Dean,” Cas reprimands with no heat at all and his boyfriend grins, pulling him closer.

“It's cool, Cas. Gets that monkey off my back, plus I ain't gonna hide you from anyone. Now, I meant it when I said we had a trip to pack for. I've never been to France, so you need to show me what to take.”

Back at Castiel’s penthouse, they get absolutely no packing done at all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t got any internet at home right now so I’ve had to publish this on my phone’s web browser - so apologies if any of the formatting looks a little weird! I think I got it all but you never know. 
> 
> Back to our boys and their little impromptu vacation...

It's official: Dean _loves_ France. Well, he loves the parts that he's seen so far which include the airport, the chauffeur-driven limo that took them to their private villa, and the terraced area where he's currently lying sunning himself beside a pool. And their bedroom, he definitely loves their bedroom with its wide balcony and creamy white shutters that let in a gentle breeze as they nap in the summer heat. He didn't love the journey over, but Cas took such good care of him on their jet that the flight went by in what felt like no time. The Xanax helped, true, and so did the two glasses of wine from tiny bottles so honestly he slept most of the way, but when he was awake and nervous Cas was there to soothe him.

The fact that he's now a proud member of the Mile High Club May also have something to do with it…

He adjusts his position on his lounger, feeling somewhere between jittery and supremely relaxed. He doesn't do this, jet off to foreign countries with no warning and live in luxury. His apartment is a rented studio, he spends his afternoons covered in grease and grime at the garage, and his dinners are microwave meals for one or dirty burgers from The Roadhouse a few doors down. It's only weekday mornings and the occasional afternoon that he belongs to a different type of life - a rich, fast-paced, exciting one full of polished, beautiful people who seem to outrank him in poise alone. He's allowed himself to fall so deep into the rabbit hole of life as Cas’ intern-cum-PA and, lying sunbathing on the coastline of a European hideaway, he feels a million miles from the life he's left behind. And it both thrills him and fills him with sadness. He doesn't want to become someone he doesn't recognise and, looking around him at the office, he's afraid that may happen. Everyone is articulate, controlled, high-brow and hard-working - and he only ticks one of those boxes.

His phone vibrates and he fishes it out of the pocket of his swim shorts. The pool glistens in the early evening light before him temptingly. He's already been in twice and the water felt deliciously refreshing on his heated skin. He flips his phone open - Cas constantly tells him to expense a new one through the company but he's attached to his old Samsung - to see a text message from his younger brother, Sam.

**SW: How's France?**

_DW: hot with awesome food. how are the lawyers?_

**SW: Fine. Busy. Internships are tough.**

_DW: you're telling me_

Dean smirks. Sam doesn't know all the ins and outs of his relationship with Cas and doesn't need to. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, nor will it force him to buy brain bleach at the local Walmart. All he knows is that Dean is screwing his boss and is damn happy about it. Well, he knows that it's more than just screwing but beyond that Sam is blissfully unaware of their antics behind closed doors. There are some things little brothers just don't need to know. Sam is completing a year’s internship with a legal firm in Palo Alto and, as far as Dean knows, is yet to enter into a BDSM relationship with a senior staff member. It has felt weird, going to work with Cas for free since Sam, four years younger, is doing the same but he had swallowed his pride and gone for it. He loves working at the garage and Bobby is great, but a part of him wants more from life, and that's the part he's following. He looks around him at the plush villa with its sparkling pool and expanse of lawns. If this is a hint of what he could achieve, then he would happily take it.

_SW: I still can't believe you actually went. You hate flying._

**DW: it was fine. Cas made it bearable…**

_SW: DEAN_

_DW: mind out of the gutter, Sammy, all i meant is that he made it all not horrible_

There's a pause, and Dean wonders if Sam has finished with their conversation. He's about to put his phone away and go for a dip in the pool when it vibrates again.

**SW: Seems like it's getting serious between you two.**

_DW: well… yeah. He's a cool guy. I like him a lot._

Dean blushes furiously as he types that last bit. If he were across a table from Sam he would be dodging this conversation entirely, but it's somehow easier to talk via text. He isn't about to spill his guts and tell his brother that they're all in love and addicted to each other, it maybe it's time he hinted that it's more than just fucking.

_DW: he's really smart. And treats me well, and I dunno man it's more than just, yknow, bumpin uglies. I like him. Haven’t felt like this before_

There's another pause, into which Dean tries to cool his cheeks and pretend that he isn't freaking out about admitting his feelings for Cas to someone other than himself.

**SW: He sounds great. You'll have to introduce me one day.**

_DW: hey I never said we were married_

**SW: Close enough.**

Laughing, relieved, he stows his phone under the lounger to hide it from the sun, stretches, then wanders towards the pool and dives in clumsily. He isn't the greatest swimmer, having never had much of a chance to learn growing up, but he can manage front crawl and treading water. When he resurfaces, blinking and shaking his head, he notices Cas up on the balcony talking into his cell phone and looking relaxed, happy, and smiling. Grinning to himself he leans back against the pool edge, arms spread wide to keep him afloat, and enjoys the coolness of the water while he tips his head back to stare openly at Castiel. He's swapped his office attire for a a linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, casual jeans, and aviator sunglasses and Dean thinks he looks practically edible.

It takes a while for Cas to turn to look over the balcony but when he does his face breaks into a dazzling smile as he gazes down at Dean reclining in the pool. He holds up a finger, mouthing ‘one minute’ and Dean nods lazily. He could fall asleep like this, dozing in the pool under the late afternoon sun with Cas nearby. His eyes close and the sound of the water combined with the breeze rifling through the trees lulls him into an unfamiliar state of relaxation.

The next thing he knows, Cas is running a hand through his hair and he blinks up into sparkling blue eyes. He's still leaning on the edge of the pool, but he must have dozed off because he doesn't remember Cas coming down and kneeling down next to him.

“Morning, sunshine,” Cas murmurs with a smile. “Or rather, afternoon. You look relaxed.”

“Hey, handsome.” Dean disengages himself from the edge of the pool and stretches, feet just touching the bottom. “You joining me?”

“I was planning on doing some work for an hour before dinner,” Cas’ gaze runs appreciatively down Dean’s exposed torso, right down to where the water laps at his navel, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I'm wondering if there's something more exciting that I could be doing, though…”

“Like me, perhaps?” Dean winks and quirks an eyebrow and Cas laughs quietly, leaning forward to dip his fingertips into the warm water.

“I've never had sex in this pool before,” he muses quietly and Dean feels both a thrill of excitement at the idea and a spear of jealousy at the idea of Cas staying here before, with someone else.

“So you've been here before?” He asks in what he hopes is a casual tone, running a hand through his hair in an attempt at nonchalance. Cas, not fooled, smirks.

“Oh yes. I've brought plenty of interns here, Dean. I work them very hard.”

He stands, hands going to his collar and he unbuttons his shirt allowing it to flutter to the ground behind him. As the knot of jealousy in Dean’s gut grows, Cas unfastens his pants and pushes both them and his boxers down in one go to reveal his half-hard cock nestled in a thick thatch of dark hair. Dean’s stomach tightens in anticipation and his mouth is suddenly full of saliva; he can't tear his eyes away from Cas’ erection as it slowly lengthens and thickens between his legs.

“But you're not… jealous, are you?” Cas’ voice draws Dean’s gaze back to his face, where a wicked smirk plays about his lips. Pouting, Dean looks away.

“No. Don't be ridiculous. I don't even care.” He turns and eases towards the far edge, trying to quell the pounding of his heart in his chest at the idea of Cas being here with someone else. Being in this pool with someone else, being in their bedroom with someone else. He's just starting to feel foolish for thinking that he was the only one Cas had ever brought here when there's a gentle splash behind him and the sound of water lapping at skin as Cas comes up behind him and wraps strong arms around his waist.

“Really? You're not jealous?” Warm lips trace a line up to his jaw.

“Nah,” Dean attempts an awkward shrug which just ends up with his shoulder bumping Cas’ chin. “Jealous? I don't do that shit. I'm glad you've had other guys here. It's a great place. Be a shame to keep it to yourselves...”

“Oh really? You're glad, huh?”

Cas is nuzzling the name of his neck, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on Dean’s hips which his body is treacherously responding to. He wants to turn Cas down this time, act all cold and distant towards him as some sort of punishment for not allowing him to be the first guy he's brought here. He wants to get out of the pool and go… shower, or something. Or whatever. He's not jealous, he's _not_. He's not imagining Cas in the pool with some other cute guy, all wrapped around him and whispering sultry things to him. He's _not_.

“Don't be jealous, baby,” Cas’ voice is a low, gravelly whisper which does things to Dean. His cock is taking interest, thickening between his thighs, and everywhere Cas touches seems over sensitive. “Because you shouldn't be.” Cas nips at his earlobe. “I wasn't sleeping with any of those interns.”

“Really?” Knowing he sounds totally pathetic, Dean turns in Cas’ arms to look at him. “They were just interns? They weren't…” He cuts himself off before he can embarrass himself further.

“They were just interns.” Cas confirms, leaning in to take Dean’s mouth in a searing kiss, pulling him close as he does. Their erections meet beneath the water, Dean’s still confined by his shorts, and they both sigh into each other's mouths. “And there were a few of us staying here, working on projects. You…” Another deep kiss. “You're something else. Something special.”

His hands drop to Dean’s hips then slide round to his ass; Dean gets the hint and hops up to wrap his legs around Castiel’s waist, the water buoying him and making it easier for Cas to support his weight. Not that it would be difficult anyway: Cas is ripped, thighs thick and strong from running, arms solid and muscular, and Dean positively melts into his embrace as his mouth is sought and captured once more. One of Cas’ hands ends up in Dean’s hair, tangling, pulling his head back to expose his throat which is immediately attacked with kisses and bites. Cas is holding Dean with one hand under his left thigh, relying on Dean’s grip on him, and they kiss passionately until they both have to break apart and search for breath, panting against the other’s wet skin.

“Bedroom?” Dean’s heart is racing in his chest, his cock hard and throbbing as it demands attention where it's pressed up against Castiel’s stomach. 

No. Too far away. I need you now.”

They're moving, Cas carrying Dean to the edge of the pool and, with a show of strength that makes electric arousal spark down Dean’s spine, Cas lifts him up until he's sitting on the edge of the pool, looking down at his dark-haired lover standing between his spread thighs. Cas moves in close, hooking one of Dean’s legs over his shoulder and pushing the other wider still; he falls back and braces himself on his palms on the wet tile behind him, certain he knows what's about to happen. And he's right: a steady, firm hand pulls down the waistband of his underwear and takes out his cock as balls, the band left to press tantalisingly at his taint and he wriggles, sighing in pleasure and anticipation of what's to come. Cas stokes him with a sure hand, gazing up at Dean with a feral, possessive look in his eyes. 

“You're the only person I've had here who I've ever cared about,” he says, gazing openly up at Dean who shivers under the intense scrutiny. He waits, Cas looking like he's about to say more, but then he gives his head a minute shake as though trying to pull himself together. Before Dean can ask, Cas leans in and then the wet, hot heaven of his lover’s mouth takes over and Dean is lost. 

Head tipped back, all he can do is pant and gasp and undulate his hips as Cas sucks and licks him, massaging his balls and pulling his wet shorts down to lap at his taint. A thumb rubs into the slick slit, talented fingers work the head of his cock until he's whining, then Cas takes him back into his mouth and just holds still, the dripping tip of Dean’s cock heavy on his tongue. Their eyes meet, Cas’ fingers push between his legs to seek his hole, then his cock is sinking into Castiel’s throat and Dean groans. He's bracing himself with one shaking arm, the other coming to grip Cas’ hair and pull him close; as Cas swallows Dean let's out a cry of desperation as he barely holds back his orgasm. His cock throbs, arousal circling in the pit of his stomach, and he's almost there, almost, when Cas pulls off him and hands come to his ribs, pushing.

“Lie back,” Castiel’s eyes are dark with arousal. “Dean, lie back. Now.”

And he goes. They aren't in a scene, he isn't collared nor is Cas calling him ‘boy’, but he goes anyway because he’ll do anything Cas wants. His heart swells with how in love he is and he shoves his knuckles between his teeth to stop a bizarre urge to cry in its tracks. The tiles are warm beneath his back, wet from their splashing, and it takes him a second to get comfortable. Cas is still between his legs, pulling his shorts off now and tossing them away. They hit the water with a wet slap, then both of Dean’s thighs are being dragged over Castiel’s shoulders. He has minimal warning - the touch of fingers to his cheeks, parting them - before Cas’ warm tongue circles his hole and Dean let's out a pleasure-drenched cry.

“Fuck! Oh fuck, Cas!”

His only reply is a low murmur from between his legs as Cas’ tongue continues to massage his hole in slow, deep circles before firmly pressing in, forcing past the tight ring of muscle. Dean whines, arching his hips and trying to chase the sensation, his own hand coming to circle the base of his cock, unsure if he's allowed to play with it or not. He thinks he isn't for a second, as Cas’ hand comes up, but then his own hand is covered and Cas starts to guide him into a rhythm, both their hands moving up and down his shaft until Dean is whining in bliss. Pre-come slicks the way, his hand damp with it, and with every upward stroke Cas passes a thumb over the slit, his tongue working relentlessly inside Dean as he does, eating him out deep and slow.

“Fuck,” Dean hisses, feeling pleasure coil low in his belly as his orgasm begins to crest. “Cas, I'm gonna fucking come, oh fuck…”

Then Cas’ mouth is gone but before Dean can lament the loss he's being hauled forward, up into a sitting position, then down into the pool with a splash that sends water cascading everywhere. Getting the hint immediately, he wraps both legs around Cas’ waist and groans deeply as the head of his lover’s cock breaches him. It isn't the slick slide he's used to, the water washing away most of Cas’ saliva, but he doesn't care because the stretch feels fucking incredible. He tightens his arms around Cas’ neck and holds on as he's lifted up then gently lowered down onto the thick shaft spearing him, gasping as his internal muscles contract at the intrusion. It feels fucking incredible, and the deeper Cas presses into him the wider he's stretched.

They fuck hard against the edge of the pool, Dean holding on with one arm around Castiel’s neck and the other behind his head to grip the pool edge. Cas has his hips in a death-grip, lifting and dropping him onto his cock while thrusting up to meet him, and soon Dean’s cock is thickening and his vision blurring. He comes with a cry, eyes closed and head thrown back against the pool edge; Cas bites his neck and groans, stilling, and Dean feels the pulse of his cock inside him as he's filled with come.

“Fuck,” Cas kisses the spot where he's bitten Dean, soothing it with his tongue as they pant, sweaty and smelling of sex and chlorine. “You're something else.”

Dean grins lazily, sated and confident after his orgasm. “Better than your other interns, huh?”

One firm thrust of Cas’ hips has him gasping and arching again; he laughs breathily as he tightens his legs around his boyfriend, not wanting them to separate yet. The water is lusciously cool at his skin, and Cas feels so delightfully warm wrapped around him and inside of him.

“Definitely better than my other interns. At least you know where the nearest Starbucks is.”

Cas chuckles as Dean lightly smacks him on the arm. In the distance, the sun is setting and they stay wrapped around each other in the pool before getting out and towelling themselves dry. They walk into the villa naked, Cas’ arm around Dean’s waist, and Dean wonders if anyone will ever make him feel the way Cas does. Although, he thinks as he links their fingers together, he doesn't ever want to find out. This is what he wants. And that scares him just a little.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas, all! I hope you had a happy and safe holiday ❤️ here's my gift to you. Enjoy ;)

France is cool. Dean _does_ like France. But it's kinda dull with Cas working all the time. Sure they've had some great sex in the forty-eight hours they've been here, eaten some awesome food, and Dean has well and truly utilised the pool area and worked on his tan, but he's bored. _Really_ bored. Cas is at some meeting and then they have a gala dinner to go to together later that evening, but it feels like forever until they have to start getting ready. Dean is watching Home Alone 2 on the widescreen TV in the home cinema and he's bored out of his mind.

And a bored Dean is a mischievous one.

He glances up at the ceiling, a half-formed plan beginning to take shape and a slow smirk spreads across his lips. He has an idea of how to make Cas’ morning a whole lot better.

•••

Thirty minutes later, down in the town in an air conditioned meeting room, Castiel checks a text from Dean and promptly spits his coffee out all over the desk in front of him. The eyes of everyone in the office immediately turn to him as silence falls, and his cheeks burn in embarrassment as he scrambles for something to wipe it up with.

“Castiel?” Naomi, a fierce-faced woman who heads up the Paris division of their firm, raises an eyebrow in his direction. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, absolutely.” He clears his throat again and pockets his phone, cheeks still burning but now for a very different reason. The image Dean has sent him is burned into his retinas, complete with three little words:

_Come home, sir…_

He makes it through another ten minutes of the meeting somehow, then excuses himself to the bathroom where he pulls out his phone with trembling hands and gazes again at the picture Dean has sent him.

Dean has worked out how to use the self-timer on his cell phone. Dean has stripped himself naked, rubbed tanning oil into his skin, and put on his collar and cuffs. Dean is lying on their bed, his hard cock in his hand, and two fingers in his mouth, eyes closed in rapture, his position saying very clearly: come fuck me. Dean has a vibrator on the bed beside him and a bottle of lubricant, and Dean has his legs spread invitingly.

Dean has been a very, very naughty boy.

•••

He doesn't hear the door. He's so lost in his pleasure that he doesn't hear Cas pad quietly through the villa, doesn't hear him nudge the door open and doesn't know he's being watched. He's got the toy inside him, a purple silicone dildo a little smaller than Cas or himself, and his eyes are closed as he undulates his hips, fucking himself deliciously. The windows are open, the curtains billowing in the afternoon breeze, and he sighs as the tip brushes his prostate. So _good_.

  
A sound from the door draws his attention and he opens his eyes lazily to see his dom approaching the bed - a look of displeasure on his handsome face. A pleased ‘yes, I knew he would come’ dissolves into submission as he tries to sit up and opens his mouth to speak - but the movement presses the dildo firmly against his prostate and he falls back against the pillows with a helpless moan. Oh fuck, he's in trouble… His ass clenches around it and then Cas’ hand is between his thighs, pushing his own away and gripping the base of the toy firmly to hold it in place. Shocked, expecting it to be pulled out, he opens his eyes and gazes in confusion at his dom.

“Bad boy, Dean.” Cas is leaning over him, fully clothed except for his cock which is erect and deliciously damp at the tip, standing proud from his open jeans. How long he's been standing at the door watching, Dean has no idea but it's evident his dom has been stroking himself. “Who gave you permission to do this?”

“No-nobody,” Dean’s hips jerk of their own accord; the toy slides impossibly deeper. “I'm sorry, sir.”

“You're not sorry. Not at all.” Cas’ voice is steel; it's his dom voice and Dean shivers. He's in for trouble, he knows it, and he's so ready for it. Between his legs, his cock throbs where it lies against his stomach. “So continue. Don't let me stop you.”

“I…” Perplexed, Dean gazes up at him.

“I said, _continue_.”

Cas’ gaze flicks down to the dildo. He's standing at the foot of the bed, one hand bracing his weight and the other holding the toy in a firm grip and suddenly Dean understands. Cas wants him to carry on fucking himself on it while he holds it and _god_ , that's erotic. Not what he thought his dom would do, but who is he to argue? He gives his hips an experimental arch and Cas nods. Given the okay, Dean falls back against the pillows once more and loses himself again in the undulating thrusting and grinding as he fucks himself on the toy. It feels incredible, sliding in and out of him as Cas holds it still, and wanton moans and gasps spill from his lips. He grips the sheets, head tossing from side to side as he plants his feet on the bed for more leverage, cracking an eye to see Cas gazing at him with undisguised lust in his blue eyes.

“Like what you see, sir?” Dean smirks, almost nervously. This isn't the punishment Cas has in mind, he's certain.

“Yes. Continue.” Cas twists the dildo sharply and Dean cries out in ecstasy as it brushes his prostate. “That's it, baby. Ride that toy. Take it all. Enjoy it.”

“Oh, god…” Dean moans, eyes falling closed. “ _So_ good…”

“It looks like it feels good. Does it, boy? Does it feel good inside you? Stretching you out?”

“Yes…”

“Pushing in and out, giving you the fucking you crave so badly?”

“ _Yes_ …” Dean throws his head from one side to the other, grinding hard on the toy in Cas’ hand. His own hands are up by his head, now gripping the pillow, and his hips come up from the sheets every few minutes to lower himself deeper onto the toy.

“So needy, so desperate for cock that you couldn't wait for me to come home…”

“I…”

Cas’ other hand suddenly comes to grip the base of Dean’s cock and he mewls in shock. Damn, he was getting so close. He pants, gazing up at Cas who now stands by his side of the bed - and as he releases the toy Dean knows he's in trouble. That look… He shivers, excited and slightly nervous for what his dom has in store.

“Take it out, boy. You won't need that any more today.”

He does as he's told, reaching down between his legs and moaning lowly as he eases it out, his rim spasming at the loss.

“You've been a bad boy, Dean Winchester. So desperate for a fuck you couldn't wait for your dom. What should I do with you?”

Dean immediately knows exactly what he wants and he swallows, gazing up through his lashes with what he hopes are soulful eyes. “I'm sorry, sir. Maybe you should spank me. Teach me a lesson.”

“Maybe I should…”

There's a predatory look in Cas’ eyes, and he reaches down to squeeze himself. Dean’s mouth waters at the sight of precome beading at the tip. Then, somehow, he's being yanked up and within seconds finds himself bent over Castiel’s lap, his naked ass in the air and Cas trailing threateningly tempting fingers down his crack. A thumb brushes his hole then it's gone, and Dean breathes in, about to exhale on a sigh of relief but the first slap catches him by surprise.

“Fuck!”

He squeezes his eyes shut and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as Cas begins to spank him in earnest, hard slaps raining down on his ass and thighs, and it should be quelling his arousal. But the delicious bite of pleasure-pain has him moaning quietly within minutes. Another slap, then another… it seems to go on forever, and it gets to the point where he's struggling to take it. His cock is aching, throbbing and his balls are tight to his body. If he comes, he will be in for even more trouble…

“Sir! Sir, I'm sorry!” Dean’s cheeks are damp with tears and his breath hitches on trembling sobs. But Cas doesn't let up, spanking him again and again, listening to his sub’s helpless moans and cries as Dean is forced closer and closer to climax.

“Stop! Sir, stop!” Dean gasps eventually, gripping the sheets desperately and struggling to catch his breath. Cas rests his palm on Dean's cheek; beneath his hand the skin is warm and he knows his sub’s ass must be throbbing by now. It's glowing red from the abuse Cas has dealt out and Dean is panting over his lap begging for a reprieve. ‘Stop’, however, isn't their safe word, so Cas lands another slap to his ass, smirking as Dean yelps out a sob.

“I'm gonna come, sir. Please, you gotta stop.”

“Do you think you deserve that?” Cas’ fingers trail up to the dip in Dean’s spine. “An orgasm? That sounds awfully like a reward to me. And after your bad behaviour…”

“No!” Dean gasps, his hips arching to avoid brushing his cock against Cas’ thigh. “I've been so bad, I don't deserve it. But I can't, I can't take any more.”

“You'll take what I give you,” Cas tells him, his voice colder than ice. “Like the good boy I know you can be.”

He pulls Dean further over his lap so that his sub’s hands hit the floor for balance and Dean’s red ass is at the perfect angle. And slaps him again, right on the junction between his ass and thighs. Dean cries out then moans wantonly as Cas spreads his cheeks to gaze down at his tight pucker, clenching under the scrutiny. It's still slick with a smear of lube and Cas brushes a thumb over it, licking his lips as he circles his sub’s entrance. Dean whines, trying to inch away from the stimulation but Cas holds him firm.

“I'm going to make you come, boy. Not because you deserve it, but because I want to feel your tight little body clenching down on my fingers. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Dean nods frantically, one hand still braced on the floor and the other fisted in Cas’ jeans. He can feel his dom’s hard cock against his hip, bare and leaking, and he's desperate to taste it or feel it inside him. But he hasn't earned that, he's earned…

“ _Oh_ ,” he gasps, the sound a broken little moan as Cas penetrates him with two fingers, tugging and massaging his rim and pleasure crests inside Dean once more. His balls are tight to his body, aching, he knows his cock is dripping steadily. “ _Sir,_ ” he moans breathlessly as Cas inserts a third finger and spreads them, stretching him, then thrusts in and out in slow, maddeningly gentle movements.

Cas’ hand comes between his shoulder blades and pushes him down, holding him in place as his ass is fingered, and he pants hard, spots dancing across his vision. Cas is avoiding his prostate on purpose, knowing that the slightest touch could push him over the edge. He's playing with Dean’s body, taking his time, and Dean moans throughout the deep fingering. A fourth, Cas’ pinky, nudges at his entrance and pushes in and he groans deep in his throat as he's stretched wide. Cas must be able to see inside him now - and by the jolt of his dom’s cock against his hip he knows he's right. Cas is breathing deeply, not panting - he's too controlled for that - but he's clearly aroused by what he's doing to his sub. Pleasure is coiling inside Dean, his thighs are shaking, he's drenched in sweat and still Cas plays with him. He can feel his rim loosening, can feel Cas pull out until just his fingertips are inside before plunging back in and rotating his hand and fuck, oh fuck, Dean is on the edge. God, he's being stretched wide. He's sure he’ll gape after this; maybe Cas will fill him up with the toy again. Or his cock. The thoughts send pleasure spiking through him and he closes his eyes, imagining being taken. He's moaning brokenly now, mindless pleas and begs, and his vision is starting to blur as the tremors spread from his thoughts throughout his whole body. He needs to come. God, please, he needs his dom to make him come.

Then Cas goes in for the kill. His thumb presses against Dean’s perennium and begins to massage him while his fingers find Dean’s prostate - and simultaneously Cas presses his thighs together with Dean’s dripping cock in between them and that's it. Pleasure crests and cascades throughout him and he's screaming, he's sure, vision white and his body taut as his climax slams into him. His balls throb, his cock pulses, and thick creamy come drenches Cas’ jeans as his ass clenches down in helpless spasms around his dom’s thick fingers.

“Sir, _sir_ , master, oh _fuck_ …"

Cas doesn't let up. His thumb circles the space between Dean’s rim and his balls, his fingers caress his prostate, and Dean feels another spurt of come pulse from his cock as he writhes, gasping. Cas’ hand is firm on his back, holding him down, and all the sensation is concentrated between his ass cheeks and between his legs - just as his dom wants. Then, as the clenching of his ass subsides, Cas spreads his fingers again and presses back in deep - Dean’s eyes roll back in his head as his balls tighten again, pearls of come dripping from the tip of his spent dick. Cas is milking him, something they did for the first time the night before they left for France, and something Dean fell in love with instantly. The sensations are overwhelming, constant pleasure, constant stimulation, just this side of agonising and deliciously painful as his body jerks helplessly.

“You're so beautiful, baby,” Cas’ voice somehow makes it though the haze of Dean’s pleasure. “I love you so much…”

His body spasms again as Cas slowly withdraws his fingers - only to push them back in once more and Dean groans, spent. His cock is soaked in his own come, Cas’ jeans are filthy, and his ass clenches around his dom’s fingers as one word slips from his lips: “ _More_.”

He isn't ready for it to be over. He doesn't want it to stop, doesn't want Cas to pull away or stop touching him. He feels like he could burst out sobbing if he does, and Cas seems to sense this. He stills his fingers and Dean’s body clenches around them as Cas’ thumb rubs his rim gently.

“What do you want, baby?”

“Fuck me,” he's so delirious, high on pleasure and endorphins and Cas’ touch that he can barely get the words out. “My mouth… my ass… fuck me, sir, _please_.”

The world tilts, then he's on his stomach and his ass is empty, his rim tightening down on nothing, and Cas is spreading his legs wide. The toy takes him first: it's pushed in deep in one firm, agonisingly slow motion and he gasps all the way through it. Then, when it's deep inside him and he's sliding a hand beneath him to press on his stomach, feeling it rigid within him, Cas’ fingers push in alongside it and he realises what's coming. He's still panting, body lax and shaking with the aftershocks of his pleasure, yet his cock makes a valiant attempt to join in the fun once more. Cas is behind him, three fingers deep alongside the toy, and god he's so ready.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs into his forearm, hand gripping the sheets as his other palm stays where it is, pressed against his stomach. He wants to feel everything. “Take me, sir. I'm yours.”

Cas does. He pushes in alongside the toy and, holding it still with a thumb, fucks Dean hard and fast until they're both panting and gasping, the European heat adding to their exertion to coat them both in sweat. His rim is stretched so wide, he's filled so full, and the in and out motion of Cas’ cock is relentlessly good. Dean comes again helplessly, sobbing as he does, and it's almost a dry orgasm. His body is exhausted, he's spent, yet he reaches behind him to grab onto any part of Cas he can reach. When Cas comes, he pushes deep into Dean once more and bites down on the flesh where his neck meets his shoulder, frowning as he fills his sub with his release.  
Dean cries a little afterwards. He cuddles close, shaking uncontrollably, and Cas kisses away his tears, massaging his shoulders and murmuring words of comfort and love into his hair.

“I'm so glad it worked,” Dean snuffles out when he's capable of words again.

“Glad what worked?” Cas asks. Dean is naked, draped across his chest. He's still half-dressed, clothes sticking unpleasantly to him, and they both really need a shower.

“My plan to get you home early,” Dean smiles up at him, a little glassy-eyed. “I was bored without you.”

“I'm glad it worked too,” Cas kisses him, a hand finding the warm, reddened skin of Dean’s ass and he reminds himself to massage lotion into it after they've showered. “Best afternoon ever.”

They end up being more than a little late to the gala that evening.

•••

It's late, their evening is over, and they've been dropped back at the villa by a sleek black town car which Dean lamented has nothing on his Baby back home. Cas just sat back in the leather seat, sipping champagne as the city lights dwindled into countryside, and watched him talk with a smile on his face. He has enjoyed watching Dean socialise, and had enjoyed even more the little winces from his lover every time he had to sit down or stand up. A pleasant reminder of their afternoon together.

They walk together through the gates and up the path, diverting to wander in the gardens in the moonlight, holding hands. It's impossibly romantic, would make Dean gag if anyone were to tell him he'd be doing it, but he loves every moment. Loves the way the starlight makes Cas’ eyes sparkle and the way the light breeze ruffles his hair. They stop by the pool, Dean tugging Cas to a halt and kissing him deeply.

“Fancy a dip?” He wiggles his eyebrows at the inviting water, still and glinting, and Cas laughs and slings an arm around his waist.

“I can think of things I'd rather be doing with you right now. You were perfect tonight. I was the envy of every man and woman there for having you on my arm.”

“Pleased to be your eye candy for the night,” Dean smirks down at him and Cas frowns.

“That's not what I meant. Everyone commented on how intelligent and charming you are. They're right. I'm a lucky man.”

“Everyone?” Dean raises an eyebrow with a mischievous grin.

“Yes.” Cas kisses him to shut him up, cupping his face and demanding entry with his tongue. They stand and lose themselves in each other's mouths for a while, hands slowly starting to explore.

“Dean,” Cas’ voice is a breathy whisper as he holds Dean close, kissing him deeply. “I love you.”

“Yeah you do,” Dean half-laughs, arms would around Cas’ neck. They kiss gently under the moonlight then Dean takes a deep breath and whispers against Cas’ lips: “Love you, too.”

Cas hugs him tighter and kisses him deeply, licking into his mouth with abandon and Dean groans as his cock twitches in interest. He tugs at Cas’ one hand at his waist and the other at the knot of his tie, and they turn to walk together into the house, one thing on both their minds.

It happens so fast, too fast for Cas to grab him. Dean slips on the wet tiles at the edge of the pool and falls, reaching for Cas as he does, a look of surprise crossing his handsome face. His body hits the water - but his head hits the side of the pool with a sickening crack and Cas is frozen in place, able only to stand stock still in shock, as a red swirl stains the water and Dean, body motionless, sinks like a rag doll.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and... maybe not sweet. Darn it, I can feel a plot creeping in!

Dean's coughing. He's coughing hard, so hard it feels like his lungs are trying to tear free from his chest. The world is blurred, he's shaking violently, and his vision swims red.

“…alright…please…”

He can't focus on anything. A voice, maybe Cas’, floats above him and he retches, emptying his stomach of nothing but water and bile onto the tiles his cheek is pressing against. He's tired.

“…Dean? Baby, talk to me…”

There's a hand on his forehead, pushing his hair back. He's lying on his side, the ground hard and painful beneath shoulder and hip and ankle. He's cold, shivering all over, and he's wet. Why is he wet? The world spins so he closes his eyes; it makes it worse so he prises them open again and vomits, his stomach spasming painfully. Cas is screaming, so loud and so close, but Dean’s throat won't work to form the words to beg him to quiet down, that the sound hurts his head.

Red. Everything is red. The water in puddles in front of his eyes is red, Cas’ fingers are red where they reach for his face, Cas’ hands are wet, why are they wet? He's so tired…

He can't hear anything now. Just a rushing in his ears and his vision blurs in and out. He's lying on his back all of a sudden, staring up at the stars and Cas’ white face swims into vision. Water drips from his hair and clothes and eyes - he's crying, and Dean tries to reach for him. Tries to lift his arms and wrap them around the neck of the man he loves. What's Cas crying about? He doesn't know, and he's just so _tired_ …

When his eyes open again Cas is at his side, cheeks still tear-stained but they're holding hands. Other people are there, at his other side and above his head and he's sick again, bringing up bile and water and coughing, choking on it before someone takes his jaw and turns his head to the side. Then he's lying on his side, and the white sheets beneath him are spattered red. Why red? What's happened? He wants to speak, wants to ask what's going on, but he can't seem to form the words. The rushing in his ears won't stop and he falls asleep again.

The last thing he sees is Castiel’s hand reaching for his face…

•••

…then moments later, what can only be moments, surely, he's opening his eyes and everything around him is white. He has to blink the room into focus, and when he does it takes a minute for his brain to catch up with his eyes. White bedsheets, white walls, white flowers in a white case, white, white, white. He's alone and for one horrifying, freefalling moment he panics that he's dead and this is his heaven, but then Cas is at the door, Cas is at his side and reaching for his hands, and Cas looks more shaken up than Dean can ever remember seeing him.

“I love you,” Cas is saying and Dean manages to croak it back through dry lips. Cas’ hair is on end, his blue eyes are bloodshot, and his lip is cracked from where he's been biting it - a nervous tic Dean saw him indulge in a long time ago in another hospital, when Dean was again surrounded by white sheets and white walls and was coughing so hard he passed out. “I love you. Can you hear me, Dean? Do you know where you're are?”

Grade three concussion, he learns later, from hitting his head on the edge of the pool when he fell in. Cas had leapt in after him and dragged him out - the abrasions on his forearms from the pool tiles suggest that it was a much tougher struggle than anyone wants to let on - and that was fourteen hours ago. Dean swallows hard at that. He's lost fourteen hours of his life and he doesn't even remember it happening. The last thing he remembers is walking in the gardens with Cas, thinking about… things. Their future. Then he remembers nothing at all before waking up alone.

Cas is quiet, subdued and shaky, and even when the doctor leaves them alone he doesn't do much more than hold Dean’s hand and kiss his knuckles. Dean, voice hoarse and rough, tries to get him to talk. Tries to make light of the situation in the way that only he can do. But Cas doesn't respond in his usual manner. Doesn't smile - or when he does, it doesn't reach his eyes - and doesn't talk back behind a few words. Eventually Dean falls quiet too, confused and exhausted, and as his eyes close he feels his lover’s warm lips at his temple and a hand brushing gently through his hair, avoiding the thick white bandage covering a deep, jagged laceration.

“I'm so glad you're alright, baby. I couldn't live without you.”

Dean is asleep before the words have left Cas’ lips.

•••

They fly home four days behind schedule, after Dean is cleared to fly, and those four days have been just short of awful. Cas has swung between overwrought mother hen, fussing over him and wearing a worried frown at all times, and cool detachment which makes Dean’s blood chill and his skin crawl. He can't shake the feeling that something is wrong, that he's done something wrong.

It was an accident, he reminds himself again as he strips down to shower alone - Cas is downstairs on the phone - and he didn't mean to fall. Didn't mean to delay their return home, didn't mean to run up a hospital bill, didn't mean any of it. His cheeks heat at the thought of disappointing Cas, of making him regret taking him along to France at all. As he steps under the spray, mindful of the stitches in his temple, anxiety churns in his stomach. He's sure he's wrong, that Cas isn't upset with him at all, but if he isn't then what could be the reasoning behind his aloof behaviour? He rubs his head; it hurts, throbs, but he's been told to expect that after a concussion. He hasn't been sick again, which is a positive he supposes. He closes his eyes and thinks about Cas again.   
They haven't slept together since the hospital, and that's another thing playing on Dean’s mind. And it isn't for lack of trying. But whenever he makes doe eyes or reaches for Cas in a manner clearly far from innocent, the blue eyes cloud over and Cas moves away or distracts himself with something. And he cringes to think about last night, when he called Cas ‘sir’ at the dinner table, flirty and smiling in an attempt to get his lover back - and Cas had turned a shade paler and asked him to please pass the salt.

Cas doesn't want him any more, he thinks to himself as he turns the heat up with trembling hands. It has to be that. What else could it be? He's going to be alone again...

By the time he's out and drying himself off, he's convinced himself completely that Cas is just riding out their last night in France then, when they're back on home soil, he’ll be gently but firmly broken up with. He feels sick at the thought. Hollow. He’ll have to leave his job, won't he? He’ll have to pack his things up in a cardboard box, as he's seen other dismissed employees do, and find another internship. He may never see Cas again. His legs suddenly feel weak and he collapses down onto the edge of the bed, wrapped only in a towel, head in his hands and tears in his eyes.

It's his fault, all of it. He's too young, too careless, too unrefined, too foolish. He laughs too loud. He took too long to say 'I love you'. He's taken too long to tell his family how serious they are. Were. He's not enough. Not enough for someone like Cas, that's for sure. And really, he's known it all along and has just been waiting for the other shoe to drop.   
He sheds his towel, finds his pyjama pants, and crawls miserably under the blankets with tears clinging to his lashes. He barely feels the warm breeze from the window, hardly notices the fresh sheets on the bed. He should go downstairs and say goodnight to Cas, but he's afraid to. He's afraid he’ll fall at the other man’s feet and beg him not to split up with him, plead and sob and promise to be better. He's afraid to imagine the expression on Cas’ face.

So he stays in bed and eventually cries himself to sleep, and when Cas comes up later he has no idea the inter turmoil silently tearing his lover to pieces.

If Dean Winchester can do anything right, he can at least get through the next twenty-four hours with dignity. He can fall apart back home.


	8. Chapter 8

The flight home is agonising. Dean sits quietly, headphones on and eyes closed, trying to hold it all together. Castiel pretends to read, but really his eyes are glazed over and Dean has no idea what’s going on behind them.

This isn’t how things are supposed to be. On the flight over, he and Cas had gotten frisky more than once and Cas had made wild promises about the things they’d do together on the flight home. They should be sitting cuddled up, looking out of the window with entwined hands, Cas should be kissing his neck, unbuttoning his jeans, sliding his shirt from his shoulders…

Dean turns, miserably, to look out at the white fluffy clouds below them. Cas has been almost too attentive so far today, carrying Dean’s bags and constantly asking him if he’s sure he’s OK to fly. He bustled about in the VIP lounge getting coffee and fruit for them, kissed Dean on the cheek and brushed his hair off his face, and even once held his hand. It must have looked, to an outsider, like they were any old normal couple. Like Dean wasn’t waiting to be broken up with back home, like Castiel wasn’t biding his time and planning how he would do it. Every touch made Dean simultaneously squirm and want to lean in for more.

He feels sick with not knowing how and when it’s going to happen. At the airport would be too cruel. In the car home is a possibility. But the most likely time for Cas to end it all will be when he drops Dean off at home. He’d asked if he can go back to his old apartment for the night and Castiel had looked shocked, concerned, but had said yes. He had lied, said he was exhausted and just wanted some time alone, then had lied again and said Sam would probably be there by morning to check in on him. Castiel hadn’t even bothered to try and dissuade him; he had just nodded in understanding and that had been that. It had hurt, it had hurt so much to realise that Cas is probably relieved, probably was wanting to suggest the same thing anyway but hadn’t known how. It’s a blessing really, that he hasn’t been able to sublet his old place. At least he has somewhere to go.

“Are you alright?” Castiel has lowered his book and is leaning in, a concerned frown on his face. He takes Dean’s hand and Dean squeezes it tightly, wanting to cling to every last touch he can.

“I’m fine,” He hears himself say. “Just hate these damn planes.”

“I know you do,” Warm fingers brush his hair back and he nuzzles into the touch helplessly. “Not long now.”

No, not long at all. They land in an hour. Castiel is probably counting down the minutes.

Dean leans his forehead against the window and closes his eyes as the plane rocks with turbulence and _Nothing Else Matters_ streams from his headphones.

 

•••

 

Castiel’s head is pounding and he’s already taken two painkillers today. Dean isn’t answering his cell, hasn’t answered his cell since last night, and Cas is worried sick. He got a text this morning, two little words that stopped him from heading round, all guns blazing, to batter down the door and see for himself that Dean wasn’t lying passed out or worse from his head injury flaring up again. Logically, Cas knows that’s unlikely since the doctor in France has given Dean the all-clear, but he can’t stop worrying. And Dean’s short message of ‘ _I’m fine’_ has just made him worry more. Why won’t Dean answer his calls? Is he mad at him? He must be.

Cas has to admit he probably hasn’t been the greatest support to Dean since his accident and he feels terrible about it. It’s all his own making, Dean being too annoyed to see him. But he’s been haunted, constantly, by the image of Dean sinking to the bottom of the pool in swirling red water and it makes him feel nauseous to even consider what could have happened. Every time he closes his eyes he sees Dean’s blank ones staring up at him from the pool, sees his lips parted and frozen in shock, feels his hand ice-cold in his own. He feels the weight of Dean in his arms, limp as a rag doll as he’d struggled to swim to the surface. He feels water fill his own mouth, spilling down into his lungs, and he hears the paramedics calling to each other as they shone lights into Dean’s glazed eyes and parted his lips to insert a breathing tube. He imagines Dean lying at the edge of the pool, not clinging to life as he had done so but cold and dead, never to look up at Cas again, never to grin in that smug, self-assured way, never to tell him again how much he loves him.

Castiel leans over and throws up in his trash can. He sits back, wiping his mouth and berating himself for being so pathetically weak and selfish. He loves Dean so much, possibly _too_ much, and the accident has rocked him to his core. He can’t shake the feeling of loss, of what he would do if Dean had been taken from him. He knows it isn’t natural to react this strongly, and knows he’s been a shitty boyfriend to Dean because of it, but now that they’re back home he’s determined to sort himself out and get their lives back on track. With one difference, hopefully.

He’s been thinking for weeks about asking Dean to marry him. He hasn’t wanted to frighten the younger man, so instead he’s done the other small things that hopefully signified his commitment. Gave Dean a drawer at his apartment. Gave him a key. Asked him to move in. All of which Dean had leapt at, and now surely getting engaged is the next logical step. Being in France with Dean had made him realise how much he wants for their relationship. He wants them to see the world together, to experience new things, to make lasting memories and look back on these moments and smile. He spent the entire plane journey home trying to plan where, when, and how to do it. Dinner, he knows, is the first step. He needs to take Dean out when he’s feeling up to it and apologise for being so distant during the last few days of their break. He can explain why, and hopefully things will naturally go in the direction he wants them to. Maybe he should buy flowers or something. No, Dean would hate that. Maybe he should…

“Castiel.” A drawling voice creeps in to his office and he sighs inwardly, not ready whatsoever for this particular interaction. “I see you decided to grace us with your presence.”

“Good morning, Zachariah,” he responds, carefully neutral. “I apologise for the delay in returning. Something unavoidable came up.”

“Ah yes,” The smarmy, balding man makes his way into Castiel’s office, uninvited, and takes a seat opposite him, steepling his fingers and leering. “Your little toy boy took a bit of a tumble, or so I hear.”

Castiel grits his teeth. “Dean had an accident, that’s correct, and he wasn’t allowed to fly home as planned. I stayed back to look after him.”

“To look after him,” Zachariah echoes. “I’m sure you enjoyed every moment of that, Castiel. I know I would.”

“Excuse me?” Cas feels his hackles rise at the insinuation.

“Send him my best wishes, won’t you?” Zachariah stands, throwing a smirk over his shoulder as he heads for the door. “And if you ever tire of him…”

The door closes just in time: Castiel launches a heavy binder full of reports at his retreating back, his nerves shot to hell. It hits the door and paper scatters everywhere, covering the floor like a snowfall. He collapses back into his desk chair a little shocked at himself, wishing Zachariah had lingered just a second longer. He knows that throwing things at his Operations Manager is a good way to get passed over for a promotion but he’s past caring. He’s worried sick about Dean and hearing him be spoken about as though he’s nothing more than a plaything had got on his last nerve.

“Mr Novak?” One of the receptionists from the front desk is tapping on his door and holding a white envelope, looking impassively in at him and the mess of paperwork all around him as he tries to compose himself.

“Yes?” He takes a sip from his Evian bottle and grimaces at the still-lingering taste of bile and this morning’s porridge on his tongue.

“This was just dropped off for you.” She approaches his desk and hands him the letter then spins on her heel and leaves again, too quickly for Castiel to formulate a _thank you_. He drops the letter into his in-tray and sighs, reaching for his cell to call Dean again. Then the handwriting on the front of the envelope catches his eye and he frowns, recognising it instantly and reaching to tear it open, his heart suddenly pounding behind his ribs. His eyes widen in shock as he reads.

 

•••

_For the attention of Castiel Novak,_

_Please accept my notice of resignation as of today. Thank you for the opportunity. I have learned a lot from working with you, however I can no longer continue my internship here. I hope you will provide me with a reference._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Dean J. Winchester_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for two short chapters in a row. Hopefully the next one will be worth the wait...


	9. Chapter 9

Dean drinks, alone, in a crowded bar. It isn't his usual haunt - in fact he doesn't even know the name of the place. He's here because he doesn't want to be found. He signals to the bartender who magics up another bottle and slides it his way. He's buzzed; not drunk, not quite drunk enough, not yet. He doesn't want to think, or to feel. He wants to forget. 

He knows it was cowardly, to drop that note off at Castiel’s office without asking to see him, but what was he supposed to do? Stand there while Castiel closed the door behind him, sat across the desk from him and gave him some rehearsed spiel about how he's not suitable for the company any more? That's what surely would have followed Castiel’s breaking it off with him. So he thought he would get there first. A preemptive attack. Score a win. If he can even his meagre attempt to escape with his dignity intact a win. 

He swallows another mouthful of whiskey, feeling it burn down his throat. He doesn't want to go home yet. Home to his empty apartment which feels cold and soulless now that most of his stuff is at Cas’ place. Their place. God. He buries his face in his hands and fights off a wave of sadness. He needs to man the fuck up, he tells himself harshly, and stop crying like a kid. So he fucked up his relationship, big deal. It was bound to happen sooner or later, he had it coming. He…

“What the hell is this?” 

His self-loathing monologue is interrupted by someone snapping at him, someone extremely close behind him and a whiff of expensive cologne reaches him just as his arm is grabbed and he's spun around on his stool to face a pale-faced, harassed looking man with messy dark hair, piercing blue eyes and a trench coat thrown haphazardly over his suit: Cas. And he's holding the letter Dean wrote, shaking it, waving it Dean’s face and he bats it away sluggishly. Maybe he's more drunk than he thought. 

“What the hell, Dean? What's going on? Are you -” Cas wrinkles his nose and his eyes widen a little in shock. “Are you drunk? After a head injury? Dean, what the hell are you thinking?”

“None o’your business anymore, Cas.” Dean shrugs him off and pushes at his arm in a feeble attempt at getting Castiel to leave. He reaches for his whiskey glass, misses, and knocks it over. Luckily, it's empty. “You don't need to worry ‘bout me. Won't embarrass you no more.”

“Embarrass me?” 

Castiel looks utterly floored; it's a good act, Dean thinks. A good pretence. He turns back to his drink feeling, to his horror, tears burning behind his eyes. Tears of anger and self-loathing and despair, knowing he's lost the one man who meant more to him than anything else. He tries to surreptitiously wipe them away but Cas catches his hand and forces him to turn back around. 

“Oh, Dean,” Cas’ fingers brush away a lone tear making a track down Dean’s cheek and he closes his eyes, savouring the touch. “What's going on? Tell me, please. What have I done?”

“Cas. Just leave it, ‘k? I know what you were planning to do, so I got in there first. Simple.” He attempts a nonchalant shrug but knows his face betrays all the hurt he's trying to keep pressed down. “Forget it. We can be friends or somethin’.”

“Friends?” Cas looks utterly flummoxed. “Dean, please. I don't understand. What do you think I was planning to do?”

“You're gonna make me say it?” Dean runs a hand through his hair in distress. “I'm not stupid, Cas. I knew you were gonna end shit with me. I know it's cowardly, what I did with that letter, but I just didn't wanna deal with it all. You gotta understand that.” He can't meet Castiel’s eyes and, instead, focuses on his own hands which tremble uncontrollably. He balls them into fists. 

“You thought I was going to break up with you?” Cas’ eyes are round and shocked; he genuinely looks floored by the suggestion. “Really? Dean, why on earth would you think such a thing?”

“Well, yeah,” Dean shrugs one shoulder, toying with his beer, not wanting to get his hopes up just yet altoigh a tiny flicker within his chest is beginning to ignite. Maybe, just maybe, he was wrong… “What was I meant ta’ think? You blew me off, las’ few days in France, we barely spoke…”

“Dean,” Cas runs a hand through his hair in evident distress. “I'm so sorry. God, I'm so sorry. I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn't realise how it was affecting you. I'm such an ass.” 

He doesn't know what to say to this. Cas hasn't actually said he wasn't planning to end things with him…

“Dean.” A hand comes into his field of vision and Cas gently tilts his chin up until their eyes meet. “I love you. I never wanted to break up with you, not in million years. I just got so freaked out when you had that accident.” Cas’ blue eyes are dark with emotion, he actually looks like he could cry. “And I couldn't stop thinking about what could have happened, or what my life would be like without you. If I'd lost you…” 

Cas stops, definitely choked up now, and suddenly Dean doesn't feel so drunk. Castiel’s eyes glisten in the dim light of the bar and his hand comes to cup the back of Dean’s head. Helpless, Dean allows his eyes to fall closed and tilts his head, lips parting, hoping for a kiss. But what he gets is so much better than that. 

“I want to marry you,” Castiel is so close to him, whispering into his hair, and Dean inhales in shock. What? “That's what I've been thinking about, Dean. The last few days. How much I love you and how much I want to marry you.” Dean allows his head to be guided against Cas’ chest and allows himself to be held there, cradled in Cas’ arms. His own hands creep up to grip the back of Castiel’s shirt so tightly he doesn't think he’ll ever be able to let go. “I want you as my husband, Dean. I want forever with you. Never think for a second that I don't love you.”

“You…” Words fail him, so Dean just buries his face in Cas’ chest and holds on as a flood of relief and surprise crashes through him. Cas wants tomarry him? Seriously?

“I love you,” Cas murmurs into his hair. “And one day soon, I want to ask you to be my husband. And I really, really hope you'll say yes.”

 

••••

 

They walk home, slowly. Home, to their apartment. And Dean slides his hand into Cas’ after a time. They talk it out. Cas is full of apologies and Dean, when he's got over the initial shock of being completely in the wrong and hearing that Castiel wants him as more than just a boyfriend one day, feels a weight lift from his shoulders as they walk. 

By the time they reach their building, Cas’ arm is around Dean’s waist and Dean is nuzzling his boyfriend’s neck, inhaling his scent, and feeling like he can't quite get close enough. The elevator ride seems to take forever and Cas fumbles for too long with the lock. 

Then they're inside and it's home. He looks around at the room, at the piles of books on the table and his sweater cast over the couch. Home. 

And he has plans for their reunion. 

“Are you going to punish me?” Dean has his back to Cas, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of the couch. He's sobered up now, the water and the walk home have cleared his head. His heart sinking, Cas shakes his head. 

“No, Dean. Of course not. I would never -”

“I said,” Dean turns and the look in his eyes is distinctly lust-filled. His pupils are dilated and dark, and there's a fiendish tilt to his lips. He closes the gap between them, leaning in to wrap his arms around Cas’ neck kissing his jaw gently. His voice is a low purr, and the sound goes straight down Cas’ spine. “Are you going to punish me? Sir?”

Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and kisses him deeply, licking into his mouth slowly until Dean is making soft little sounds of pleasure and melting against him. 

“Yes, boy. I am.”

 

••••

 

“I love you, Dean,” Cas whispers. Their lips are inches apart, Dean is sweat-drenched and blindfolded, shaking beneath Cas, and seconds later his body convulses as an intense climax rips through him. The cries that leave his bitten lips are music to Cas’ ears, and he holds Dean’s thighs firmly against the young man’s chest as come soaks both their stomachs. Cas is leaning over him, they're chest-to-chest, and Castiel is only just catching his breath from his own orgasm, his softening cock still inside the body of his sub and twitching in delight as Dean’s inner muscles clench and spasm around him. 

“You're so beautiful,” Cas rests his full weight on one forearm, using the other hand to brush Dean’s damp hair from his forehead and he kisses him deeply. Dean gasps for breath, still shaking, arms pulled out to the sides and up above his head, black leather cuffs holding his wrists tight to the headboard. “So good to me, Dean. I love you so much.”

“Love you, Cas,” Dean sounds like he's near tears, and Cas gently reaches behind his head to untie the blindfold. Dazed green eyes blink up at him, and he smiles down at his pretty submissive. The cut above Dean's eyebrow is healing nicely, faded to a pale pink, and Cas presses his lips to it gently. 

“Hey, baby.”

“Hi,” Dean’s voice cracks and he coughs, arching his back as Cas leans down to peck him quickly on the lips before sitting up and letting his soft cock slip out of his sub’s body. Dean groans at the loss of contact and watches almost frantically as Cas unties his restraints. The second his arms are free he's sitting up, wrapping Cas in a tight embrace and burying his head into his neck, the cuffs still snug around his wrists and his black collar stark against his tanned skin. Castiel strokes his back and holds him as he recovers, dragging the sheets up to cover them, uncaring about the mess, when Dean starts to shiver. He tries to coax his lover to get up and have a shower, but Dean shakes his head no. He won't lie down either, so Cas simply holds him tight and strokes whatever expanses of bare, sweat-sticky skin he can reach as his worry begins to mount. 

“Are you alright?” Cas frowns, checking in. It isn't unlike Dean to become clingy and emotional after a scene, but what they'd done hadn't been particularly intense, just some restraints and a blindfold. “Dean? What's the matter?”

Dean shudders, his whole body quaking in Cas’ arms, then he moves to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. “It's nothing really. Just bein’ stupid. But these last few days have just been so damn tough. Kinda love you, like, a lot. And I dunno, thinking I’d done something to embarrass you was just the worst. I don't ever wanna disappoint you…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Dunno, thought I was OK about it. That we sorted shit out at the bar. Should just forget it all and be happy…”

“Hey, don't do that.” Cas manages to settle them back against the headboard, Dean straddling him and lying on his chest, head cradled in the crook of his shoulder. He's unnerved; Dean is always warm and cuddly after sex but this seems different. This time he doesn't seem like he can let go. “Don't downplay how you feel. I’m so sorry, Dean. For hurting you. I feel awful. I don't ever want to disappoint you, either, and I did by not being honest with you. But you have to know how much I adore you, and when you're ready I want to be your husband.” They kiss gently, Dean sighing into it. “Tell me in the future how you feel, promise me?”

Dean shrugs. “Dunno. I'll try. Just didn't seem important and I guess I didn't wanna lose face.” 

“If it upsets you, it's important.” Cas says firmly, stroking his lover’s back and pulling the blankets up to cover them. “And I'm sorry. So, so sorry. You know you're it for me, right?”

“It's just been so rough, thinking you didn't want me any more and I just -” Dean breaks off, his words catching in his throat. He closes his eyes, nuzzles close in to Cas. “Don't leave me. Don't ever leave me, Cas. I don't think I could get through it.”

“Dean, I'm not going anywhere. I promise you that. Look at me.” Red-rimmed green eyes flicker up to meet his. “I love you. I want to marry you. I promise, I'm here. And I'm not leaving you.”

“You'll leave me one day,” Dean whispers, drawing circles on Cas’ bare chest. “Even when we’re married. You'll have to.” 

And his meaning is painfully clear: one day, Cas will die and Dean will be left alone. The age gap between them isn't so big that this is something either of them will have to worry about for a long, long time but Cas can't deny he's a little freaked out to know that these thoughts have been crossing Dean’s mind. He tightens his grip. 

“Dean, I'll love you even beyond death. I want you to know that.” 

“I will too, ya know?” Moisture clings to Dean’s lashes and he offers a watery smile. “‘Til death do us part’ and all that crap. Wait, no, forget I said that. That was corny as hell. Save that for the wedding. Just…” He’s blushing but there's a firmness in his voice that makes Cas’ chest clench with overwhelming love for him. Especially since Dean just hinted that when he eventually asks, Dean will say yes. “I love you. That's all.”

That's all. It sounds so simple. In the grand scheme of things, they've been together hardly any time at all but to Castiel it feels like forever. It feels like this is it for him, like he doesn't need to look any further. Dean’s it. If Cas believed in true love - and he's starting to consider it a serious possibility - he would say he's found it, in the arms of a dorky, goofy, eye-wateringly handsome man twelve years his junior who just happened to waltz into his life one day and decided to stay. 

And he hopes Dean feels exactly the same. 

As Dean lets his eyes fall closed and drifts off on top of him, sticky and sweaty and sniffling but smiling Cas holds him close and watches him sleep for as long as he can until he can't stay awake any longer. 

When he dreams, it's of candy-apple green eyes and the man he loves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! This got kinda plot-ridden towards the end, but I really hope you liked it. Thank you so much to everyone who read, commented and left kudos. Love you all ♥

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/coffeeandcas) if you want to come and talk to me. Please do, I love hearing from you all.


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